I am America I am buy-and-buy shopping palace garage rainy carport. I am cars. I am America and this is my Dream: I want you to climb anthills, I want you to be ants. Black ant, red ant, please form your colonies. Please take away the crumbs, be satisfied with the tidbits, be girl bent solitary over lunch table, a paper sack of Ritz crackers and Cheese Whiz, be alone.
Remember, all together now, repeat after me in unison, “I am alone.”
I am America and I am frightened. You are dirty in those tents, you are ferocious with arms locked and I worry because now you’re looking between my holidays. All the flash and spin, the whirling tops, the Big Top Big Tent circus isn’t holding your attention like it used to. Your chins are not scraping the asphalt in rapture. You are looking between my holidays and you are turning over and over your empty. The park benches have never been softer, you coil on them, contented cats. Your furry tails flick and the pigeons are at peace–there is no threat despite my efforts to convince you that you are culprits among culprits.
I am certain that you are not checking your watches enough, not checking your phones with enough fervor, not checking yourselves. The women are shouting and unprettied, the men are soft and bending like dandelions and some of you are refusing to join either camp. This is an outrage!
You are looking between my holidays and what lay limply beneath the glare of lights and recyclable plastic (because I’m going green, see I’m good! a good guy!) are folded-up notes of imaginary numbers.
Now your complaints are not shrill isolated crow squawks but are legion, white noise infantry, a song, a steady thrum of breathing, wild guitar solos, ham and cheese sandwiches passed from hand to hand, slapped together in communal kitchens with donated cheese and shoplifted ham. Children are laughing–LAUGHING! This is mutiny! Here, look at this, look at the shiny red thing, look at the pretty paint, fall back into the lap of your armchair, turn to another channel, look at the impossible blues, the decadent greens. See pretty toy? Shiny, shiny! You are getting verrrrry sleeeeeepy…