monkeys with typewriters

give a monkey a typewriter
and it will cook an egg and cheese hamlet
with the dying breath of a royal sun.
it stabs its caesar word salad with sprigs of time
to burn in fatal embrace
not knowing fault lies in the stars.

give a monkey a typewriter
and it will chatter of its chattel
like chimp in bourgeoisie.
it pampers its heir—i leave you
fruits from the labor of monkeys to flog
and make sure to call them monkeys.

give a monkey a typewriter
and it will find the magic words
to cooperate with coup operatives.
it clocks into banana republic
on the country’s new shift
selling gold chains like they’re typewriters.

give a monkey a typewriter
and it will tick away in silence with its kin
monkeys with typewriters
left-aligned
monospaced in a text box
typing drafts of a masterpiece that will never be theirs
on a typewriter that will never be theirs
knowing their serifs cannot survive through serfdom
when a single character of their true type
is an invitation to die.
at the end of time
a monkey justifies the body
and calls the blood a typo.
it’s not a problem
after all
we could just
give a monkey a typewriter.