I've been addicted, since they deployed
hand sanitizers everywhere, to the alcohol odor
evaporating off my fingers, bottled green
to appeal to the modern brain's craving
for unripe neon, primed for the anti-bacterial sting
that daily aborts the contents of my life-lines
while readying the whorls of finger blueprints
for superbugs that fit the cracks the best,
knowing that everything important about America
and eating and breathing and keeping ourselves
clean fresh-faced fresh-breathed fresh-fed
fattened calves and swollen ankles
purpling up in darling pumps hot from China
can be squirted from a plastic bottle.
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