SPAM (poem)

it’s the spiced
post-colonial Americana
military diet

that settlers create
for the Micronesian dream

no, it’s microscopic
off the border of u.s.
wake up the islands
to salty territories
of unincorporated lands
corporate heads
eat king breakfasts
on king-sized beds

spiked with thyme
and blossoms
ripe for picking
in horticulture

it’s the difference between
explore and exploit
that the x factor remains
off the charts

hidden and found
mapped along
post-colonial shores

— The Finicky Cynic

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