tacky Jackie is

all camo whacky

is fighting fabric fabulous?

or olive drab, a mottled mess?

this hunter man in field dress

grassy tan, all fragrantless—

let’s shoot a deer

or

go to the theater

cap and shirt

and vest

and pants

jacket

boots

a camo-mance

but

underwear?

the brown dappled stick

and grass

hide this hunter’s dick

and ass

I mean,

desert khaki

on his back, he

really gone

all camo whacky

tacky, tacky

I shake my head

tacky, Jackie

then there’s woodsy Rene

with mossy trees on her lingerie

real oak, a cloak soirée

the great outdoors, a body party

the garden of Eden all artsy-swarthy

wilderness wearables

are invisible terribles

hunters, truckers

feather pluckers

pseudo-soldiers

weekend warriors—

he’s got his

camouflaged vanities

she’s got her

camouflaged panties

what’s next?

a bush bash?

a forest fling?

will they find each other?

shoot something?

camo ka-blamo

blasts outta control

the cable guy

wears it

and so does J. Lo

camo is whamo

it hits everything, see?

mugs, lighters, panties

made in China

for me

my camouflage reportage

is tainted, the way I see it

and

my camouflage reportage

is painted so I can’t see it