Nazis Visit Kansas City

fostered by night they come
with fingers flayed and unsettling
then gripping hot wires like
dead children.

their mouths smile through deadly grimace
each tooth a golden
hew and flashing
as the sun sets.

traveling in dumpsters hooked up
to parallel Clydesdales they ride
the broken road to eat
in seclusion, breaking out
their emblems and maps,
bracing for a touch of
disparity.

photos flash bright, and beers
are hoisted to the past, their bald
heads and alien spectacles glint
off chandeliers and long knives attach
to rifles in practice.

a toast is raised, to Hitler and
his friends, those heroes now undead,
still alive in hatred
so strong it doesn’t
melt when splashed in the hot potato soup.