the way we weren't in poetry

we aspirated on our aspirations
we consumed and consumed until we
coughed up blood from consumption
wallowed so far in the depths of
fantasy the coma was inevitable
we were Americans until the day
we all Americouldn’t anymore
Adam Smith’s invisible hands
slam our fingers in the window
after locking the front door
we were sold a dream
of endless expansion
of infinite inflation
of American exception
and that’s the problem
with a dream there comes
a time you must wake up
wake up

Last updated January 02, 2020