agony

i beat my breast

with that thing you use to beat eggs

what do you call it never mind

nobody cares if my flip-flop soul

is coming unraveled

my ideological marx umbrella

is ripped from the hand

not holding that thing you use to beat eggs

twisted beyond recognition by a satirical wind

i will not be wrong about the one true manifesto

the clown car keeps running me down

i’m talking about groucho not karl

you idiot

Is that a Manifesto in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?