A Ford Explorer, Chevy Suburban, and a Dodge Durango,
The microcosm of where we are and how we got here.
The family, father, mother, and children, always inside,
Protected by its gas-thirsty frame from baseless threat,
Jailed by its prosaic shell from enlightened thought.
Our American family journeys to its evening fare.
...
Our father drives, one hand on the steering wheel,
The other pressing his smartphone to his ear.
Man’s costly toy, salve to his bruised ego,
Surrounds his life with marketed mindlessness,
Smothers his identity with mindless marketing.
Our father is consentingly happy.
...
Our mother rides, one hand covering her left ear,
The other pressing her smartphone to her right ear.
Her family and home, the products of her longings,
Surround her life with mind-numbing noise bytes
That stave off her soul’s vast emptiness.
Our mother is consentingly happy.
...
Child the older, both hands embracing his Nintendo,
His music’s earphones pressed securely to his ears,
Electronic sedation draining his brain of bits and bytes.
Child the younger, listening to Britney and to Jaylo,
Her music’s earphones pressed securely to her ears,
Pop, rock, and rap oozing into her.
The gift of dimness proscribing their destinies,
Our children are consentingly happy.
...
Our family journeys to the cheese and crackers of life.
Dinner at Applebee’s, shopping at Home Depot,
Browsing at Toys R Us, scouring Wal-Mart,
The zeal for economic growth, the curse of the chain store,
They pin their hopes on these sources of enlightenment.
Books cast aside, conversation tweeted, discussion thwarted,
Relationships kept afar, intimacies avoided.
...
Driving the SUV down the American road,
Always yielding to the thrill of suburban myopia,
Always serving the will of the mighty dollar,
Always embracing the drill of conformity.
Our humanity consentingly vanishes.
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