I found this mug in the checkout section at a Winners department store. So I bought it for four dollars.
Now, just as Che Guevara peeks out from the ass pocket of your favourite board shorts from West 49, so too can Kurt Cobain’s legacy disappear into the gaping maw of consumer culture every time I pour a hot cuppa.
He spins.
In his grave.
Just as the beans.
That I bought at Starbucks.
Spin within.
The coffee grinder.
That I bought at Walmart.
RIP Kurdt.