With Apologies to AG
America, there are green tea leaves
in your eyes, cigarette smoke
across your cheeks.
Are you queasy, America?
Was it something you ate?
The salad? The appetizer plate?
America, Applebees is calling you.
We dated in college, America.
When my hair was long in the back.
You liked long hair,
like a river likes its banks,
like a banker likes his banks.
A little Marx went a long way,
you went a long way,
a long way back
to from where you came.
America, your daughters
are not your best friends.
Your sons are not your toys.
America, your wild weekends
aren’t.
America, your thong
is showing.
posted by Bill @ 10:08 AM
1 comments
1 Comments:
Green tea leaves indeed, sir
paid with my Starbucks card
personalized just for me, sir
from a stack of hundreds
just like my education.
And that river, sir
the river that hugs my banks,
moves in a slow, viscous drip
oozing to a stop before it will rush backwards
back from where I came
where I seek to go again
to the place my mother ran away from
Sir, I don't want to be
my mother's best friend.
Everything she fought for,
I will run back from, not wanting
to need
to have it all.
I just don't want to have to think that hard
and a riskless adventure is just the weekend for me.
Yes, sir, my jeans are low,
just where I want them
it's an easy catch
and your affront to my apathy is...
well, I don't care really.
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