Harvest–A Poem

For PepsiCo
Before dark
We harvest
Two hundred acres of corn,
Fifty-six bushels an acre.

Afterward
We enter the house great-grandpa built
Long before genetic engineers,
Press a button,
Vanish.

Reds blues greens
Dance heaven-pure hues,
Cry, “Yahoo!  It’s Mountain Dew!”
Silhouettes on sidewalks
Pierce synaptic gaps,
Ooze fear.

Seated on easy chairs
We lurch between heaven and hell

While corn ears gush
Through occipital lobes,
Fill truck after truck,
Mutate into syrup.

We guzzle
the carbonated nectar.
It burns double-time
Through cerebellum tunnels
At 33 cents a can.

Colors juxtaposed in shadow
Spill from the box
But cannot quell rage.

We leap from our chairs,
Curse the banks,
Belch,
Sigh,
And settle back down
For the rest of the show.

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