Dog bark rhapsody
and lawn maintenance gear
ring in the suburb morn
Amid Shangri-La,
the gross neglect of sparrows
dooms the morning air
Eyes never meeting,
neighbors murmur good morning
then move along mute
Housewives jog to Starbucks
flaunting pink spandex leggings
and designer sneakers
Baby on Board sticker
like a magic talisman
wards off all evil
Carefully arranged,
the living room furniture
circles the TV
Sunday barbeque
Rolling Stones’ “Gimmie Shelter”
Cold beer in coolers
The Nielsen boxes
of America reside
within these four walls
Birthplace of garage bands
Apathy Incubator
The Block Grant Hustler
If your fucking dog
Pisses on my lawn again
I’ll call the police
Sally’s all grown up
Graduated from Ritalin
to Adderall
Thousand dollar stereos
play hip hop music about
life in the projects
Old man drools over
high school car wash faux virgins
all for charity
My hometown has two
humane societies but
no homeless shelter
What miracles left
in a world where any star
might be an airliner?
If there were no street signs
or numbers on mailboxes,
could you find your way home?