a poem for today, 9 September 2012

a poem for today, 9 September 2012
[a syllable sorted sonnet of eight sentences and its image]
How to tell if you're American.
Here's to spending daddy's money.
Her mom slit her wrists like a dumb ass.
The more prominent of the brothers, presumably, is holding a fish in his right hand.
Your hygiene is suspect, your hair is gross and you have no fashion sense whatsoever.
Tattoos that are inappropriate or gang-related must be covered at all times.
In actual time, no heavenly harmony resonates in the sound and fury.
There is nothing wrong with me a massive lottery win wouldn't fix.

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