Sold Out II

by

And here we have the slot machine
dug out like a prize from a cornflakes box
with a genuine imitation

gold-plated arm, a wind-up mouth that speaks!
And how! Prise it apart to see

the monkey mechanic wrench and key, the
lightweight board and blunt green screen
where quizzes are conceived

for the time-passing pathos of the content-
guzzling crowd. A world of fun awaits!

: a slogan to plaster over Vonnegut’s face
branded in the blackest shade
on the base near the waste disposal

for the pork, pot and pussy it devours
to oil all devices, run smoothly on

careless to the jarring shifts
of excesses like emotion.
Its original stock is now long gone.

Go beyond that textured brass, the
cultivated surface parts

and stick your hand into the slot
man-moulded to the product
not the soul:

catch the pellets that compress
the additives consumed

and dispensed in times of hazy
blinkeredness where nothing pricks
quite like the process.

Break into parts till emptiness
is all that’s left

to reinsert.

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