In Dentured Squares

I survive in suburban Shiloh,
shop the local Safeway and
eat offal because it’s tinpot
and soft on old root canals.

A week prior I’d flown across
to China, to ancient Hohhot,
to, meet new moguls, eat Wonton
soup and Singapore Noodle,
sip tepid teas beneath gild talons

after purchasing a bureau, some red
white and blue prayer beads, and shackled
nunchuckers from Ikea, in South Korea,
at cost — of course.

Now if that ain’t whistling
Dixie, surely nothing is.