fleecing the beast

We wonder   Wide eyed conqueror, The prevailing wind prevailed. Spun for six, Picked up sticks, Eight furlongs is a mile. Tom tom tum, Mixed with rum, Wrapped  in linen, Baked in sun. (Aha! you rascals bend, Like pages in the end.) In paper backs, in tepid rages, Sunken eyed and   Shrinking wages. God soaked and  so revealing, The shadow on  the ceiling, the heart attack, the small blue plaque  the liquor was  so appealing.

Are you the next 57 Cadillac? Greased and Leased Washed and waxed Driven at speed Through north Hollywood nights  Sweet leather and stiletto  Punches the throttle Glancing sideways  Picking up leers Like burrs .