The American
Dream Gone
Haywire
There was a monster
called
Vanity
that flew
over my past.
I saw it
fleetingly,
out of the
corner
of my eye.
But too long
have I
trusted
my sight,
too proud
to explore.
I am out of
touch.
There was a
small town
in the past
with a
single dream,
a dream of
comfort
and
connection.
There was no
competition
for bigger
dreams.
I went in
the store
and bought
an ice cream
float.
I walked on
the wooden
floorboards
and out
into the
sun.
At home,
on the TV,
the
commercials
also had a
dream
that was
connected
to a country
and its
consciousness.
There were
three
stations and
when an event
happened,
people all gathered
around these
three stations.
There was a
past
and we look,
in the
storefront window,
to the TV
as we passed
by.
Cable came to our town
later than
most,
as our town
was small
and rural.
There was no
more watching
the black
and white TV
in my mom’s
bedroom.
The cable
connected us,
but part of
our dream
was lost in
the wiring
as the
American Dream
began to go
haywire.
When we got
a VHS
and a video
store
membership,
there were
many
different
dreams
that seemed
to sacrifice
the one
dream.
And the past
was put into
a vault.
One day,
from the
vault,
came music
that wept
of a time
when rain
soaked streets
collected
leaves
and street
lights
became
lanterns
and the clod
of horses
beat on the
ground.
The song
began to
speak
of tire swings
that turned
into
poles of
animal skin
teepees,
and a dance
in the twilight,
singing
about
mimmering horizons.
The song
suddenly sounded
like it was
having a bad
dream.
It played
oboes
and you
could
almost
see bats.
The song
sang of pain
in our past,
pain we have
caused others
and pain
we have
inflicted
on
ourselves.
Church Bells began to play
signifying a
new day.
The vault
was open,
like we have
just come out
safely
from a maze
of hay.
I saw
the monster
with more
than my
sight
travel
toward
a steeple
and enter
the light
as the night
fell
without a
fight.
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