| America, My Beautiful |
| Her hair of flax and soybean and cornhusk dancing past tractors that spew their philosophy into the air and anyone still stupid enough to live the farm life that all suburbanities secretly yearn for if only you could do it without missing Springer and your tee time at the club. if i shit in a glass and plopped a rosary in afterwards i could sell it in New York as art and be famous all over for my daring new approach for about 10 seconds and then a plane will crash and flags will wave and "The Star Spangled Banner" will be sung and people will smile slightly as they remember that song is about war and forget that they are petitioning Congress to have the official song changed to a less violent more uplifting one. And i'll work for a newspaper opinion column and have to spew half assed answers to questions about place settings and 50 ways to use a dryer sheet then spout humor columns for the inane masses who read at a 3rd grade level so i'll write fuck 8,000 times just for effect it's art i'll say so it should be published 'cause of the Freedom of the Press and Speech and homemade apple pie and it doesn't matter who i offend so that's my column for this week 'cause i hate it here. And somewhere someone is reading this and saying "right on, that's exactly how i feel too" and they'll walk into the grocery store and grab some Mac & Cheese and a six pack and pay the lady in the little apron who is bored senseless earning a wage just enough to remind her she's poor and that someone will spot a magazine on the rack that reads "All signs point to the End of the World" "Exclusive pictures inside!" and they'll think "right on, that's exactly how i feel too" And the kid who's got more money than god and parents who think that's all it takes to be happy goes out to a gun show where they don't do background checks and buys one and the next day blows off the top of six kid's heads before he kills himself and the police find the note "They were right, money did make me happy." and the parents will blame video games and music and movies so long as it's not their fault that they were bad parents America, my Beautiful America Full of the tired, the wretched, the poor huddled masses that shoot each other in the street and turn a blind eye to their own suffering My Beautiful America. What have i done to you. -Lindsey Bard March 4,2002 |
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