Picnic Table Blues 06/19/87

All alone slumping
On a big red slab of pine
Broken bottle glass
Bottle wasn't mine
Ants and termites scurry
To ruin what we've built
Leaping onto wood or flesh
Eating to the hilt
Paper plates take flight
Squirming bodies follow swift
Fly lands on the paper plate
And potato salad lifts
Wood from trees of forests
Where once I used to roam
Now the site of just one more
American dreamland home
From trees to yellow siding
A path we quickly take
Microwave microchip
And frozen steak to bake
All alone dying
In a box of reddish pine
Picnic table blues
On my flesh the termites dine