By John L. Campbell
Omar shakes sand from a new magic
prayer rug, shrink-proof, made in China
from washable, synthetic camel’s hair,
for travel across deserts without water.
Riding the rug trimmed in blue neon
with a fringe of matted camel dung,
Omar wings over Omaha, the site
of other unidentified flying objects.
Spotted by shadow sensitive sensors,
alerted by airborne Arabian emissions,
the Strategic Air Command awakens,
booting computers, brewing coffee.
The sky emits clods of goat cheese,
clouds of cookie crumbs like cauliflower
under skin of an aging ass, white buttocks
stoop to push blinking red lights.
His magic carpet dripping carbon dew,
Omar kites home, back before the rooster
crows, back before his harem awakens
to notice their neon prayer rug missing.