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Piñata in the marching band

By Paul Jolly

You don’t want a condom
rolled off the slick cock
and stuff it into its envelope.

You don’t re-origamify an inflated airbag
and stuffed into its pouch with hope
it repeats its trick next crash.

These things are one-use items,
and no one complains, even in this stern
reduce / reuse / recycle climate.

So get off my back about the piñata.
A bee dies in the sting, and a male
Praying mantis is only good for one screw

before the female snacks on his head.
At most hysterical tune’s climax,
in front of the judges’ booth, the bass

drums do their thing, the low note
of a baritone sax makes everyone pride
-giddy. The drum major will nod at me.

I will deliver a resolute whack that ricochets
for city blocks. It’s a thump no
drum can muster plus candy.