Burning Soul III
Can’t you see our way of life is dying?
Are you blinded to the strip malls crumbling,
Soon to be replaced by — nothing?
Storefronts are overstuffed with emptiness,
Customers gone to super centers and dot-coms,
Leaving aught but the cracked shells of our sprawl.
Their cement skeletons haunt the country,
Deserted ghost towns left gaunt and hungry–
Now remnants of our insatiable wanting.
Their shadows of our ostensible greatness
Through which the zombies saunter, residents
Left for dead, glass-eyed with hollow pockets.
And greatness is what, the American Dream?
Where we work for our corporate voters
Just to go Black Friday shopping?
We pretend we’ve been nice, like we’re free of guilt,
So we don’t feel shame when we’re crippled by debt,
And all the while there are mothers buying food stamps for bread.