the business end of the language cannon

the business end of the language cannon

at the bottom of 16 silvery floors
there’s an illegal space heater aimed at my toes and
mismatched ear buds sitting on the desk.
i run the northern post of
the ministry of correct information.

words good and true,
words such as “leverage” and “savvy”
are tapped out on a keyboard,
corralled into cogent paragraphs
and fired at a target audience.

at the bottom of 16 silvery floors
i’m heavily fortified.
i’ve got a lock on the location
of the nearest chocolate chip cookies,
i’ve got the health club boot camp membership,
the secret card-key entry,
the slot in the gated parking garage.

words are working for me
working on me
and probably working right into the fabric
of the sleek skeletal chair
in my pod away from home
at the bottom of 16 silvery floors;
i’m covered in adjectives
swamped with superlatives
and otherwise armed with
trademarks and brand names
because, friend, this is the ministry of correct information
and this is where the words
come out right
or they don’t come out at all.

soup that eats

I noticed this on the label on a can of soup in my cupboard: “The soup that eats like a meal.” I don’t want a soup that eats like anything! I want a soup that will passively be eaten. What the hell is this all about? Meals don’t eat, right? Unless they mean a mealworm.

Maybe Campbells is on a first-name basis with these larvae and leaves off the “worm,” but like I said, I don’t want soup that eats like a worm or anything else. I don’t want to find out what “eats like a meal” means. Maybe I’ll test it on the cats.

By the way, I’m also considering a robot attack insurance policy.