For Wile E. Coyote (and me)

(Someone recently asked if I relate to Wile E. Coyote’s antics. My response…)

In his own name, sarcasm and irony
were embedded the way his own head stuck
right through the edge of the cliff he tried crossing
with all those light-bulb ideas—
skis on wheels,
bow with himself as the arrow,
hot-air balloons stocked with sticks
of dynamite. Road runner always
took off with a beep-beep and a puff
of dust like the one he left at the bottom
after falling off the edge. Fade out,
fade in, and he’s still alive
to dream up another over-complicated contraption
only to get blown up by his own
dynamite again. And he could’ve made it
so much simpler if he realized
road-runner meat
won’t satisfy
after all.

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,
and your labor for that which does not satisfy?
Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,
and delight yourselves in rich food.

(Isaiah 55:2)

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