The tortilla of happiness
can wrap anyone’s burrito
in a blanket of glee;
a soft carapace to hold back vitals
while they head for the teeth;
the grinder pulps hand rolls
and hamburgs alike;
a pineapple’s the same as
a marshmallow when
the pressure is on;
the squeezer, the chopper,
the burn bag, the scythe—
all flatline everyman
to a little pile of ash—
a light load in the end
for all the fillings
and greed of a lifetime