Ours is the country of Jack Armstrong. Long buildings exploding, earthquakes, floods. Mass murderer lining up teenagers. Heather says all she needs is a post office and a liquor store -- one liquor store, one post office. I'm stuck in the city in a long dark subway tunnel. She sneers driving for hours across blacktop, with giant breasts winking at her from billboards. I say look on the bright side, it's not all shallow or grim. We got Smurf and Cabbage Patch, Nintendo and Pac-Man. And we've found a way to dance to the slow heartache music Trudy the waitress keeps punching all day at the drive-in burger joint. True, we could ask for more but hey! around here we count our blessings. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONADNOCK IN EARLY SPRING by AMY LOWELL THE RING AND THE CASTLE by AMY LOWELL CLARE'S DRAGOONS by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS LIFE'S MIRROR by MARY AINGE DE VERE THE WEARY BLUES by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT: STREETWALKERS by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE |