Oh fat gleaming monster reposing in the corner
With your soul glowing like satan's fires,
Whence have you come to destroy life's peaceful existence;
To tempt youth and put new lines in the seers' brows?
Like the roaring blasting furnace, you require nourishment,
Taking pity on your pangs of hunger, I'll feed you a nickle,
Ungrateful one! There you sit with your polished sides gleaming,
Smug and satisfied like a fat Buddha.
Slowly you devour my offering,
And as it reaches your digestive system,
You gr--rr-owl and gr--rr-Ind;
Instead of a soft crooning thanks, you stab at me with a cresendo of noise.
Wailing and screeching, you pour out your thoughts in anguish,
And I sit amazed at your suffering.
"Ode To A Jukebox,"
Manuscripts: Vol. 10
, Article 20.
Available at: http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol10/iss2/20