I saw a trash bag on a barbed-wire fence
perched like a lion-tailed macaque
in my blind spot, his old-world eyes
scrutinizing drivers and blue-collared
Mexicans departing the grounds at 12
as he chomped on his monkey smartphone
and texted, texted, texted. His daily feed
has executed Northern Irish dogs
and cats encased alive in concrete by
some latter-century saint. Macaca
silenus wanderoos the world-wide web
to flee dead chimps in Vegas, choosing only
primary-colored links to bag for his
threatened slash self-sustaining mission.
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