Wednesday, May 9, 2007

“The dream is busted, broken,”

The dream is busted, broken,
  but we should have known that
    when they sold us the car
       that we used to replace
   the one we bought
         three years before.
The property taxes are too high,
  the traffic is miserable in the morning
            and even more miserable at night.
The children are overfed and overstuffed
  and if they know anything
  it isn’t about life—
       movies and videogames do not a life make—
and what did I want here anyway—
  a freshly mowed lawn,
  making love to my neighbor’s wife,
  sprinklers and car alarms?

This is a world which blossomed
    like flowers in a desert.
    The rains have come and gone.
    It’s over now,