Kiddie Story

You little fascist, he says half-smiling to himself
as he tousles the hair of the little dude,
who kicks away his bedful of toys:
This spoiled brat is central to a bout
between his once-lovers mom & dad
winning his heart & mind’s a legal must.
Money flows: He’ll score for his lonely whim
like any general who thinks he’s on track
against insurgents who are all on a tailspin
at his Godly mission of cleansing the world of sin
except, of course, his simple view of things.
The poor rich kid’s collection of toys
a sour slum boy picks up from a bin
piecing them together to make his afternoon
soothing like that old Chinese balm
on ugly sores on his feet & arms.
Tomorrow, he will find a toy gun
making him feel, for once, like Superman
who flies up, up & away & into the sun
where hunger won’t make his tummy burn
& Tomorrow & tomorrow & tomorrow
the cute fascist boy will put on his uniform
to command his troops & on to the front
where Red Guards, he bristles, loot & burn.
The old superkid will scrounge around
for pennies, floozies & crack to push
Shoot down guys the cute general will adduce.

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