American Dreams

This is a short prose poem I made recently in a burst of inspiration. Hope you enjoy!

I wonder if that’s all it is.

 

Transporting yourself from place to place to buy things or make money to buy things.

 

It’s all shops and chain restaurants and malls.

 

Bright, vivid colors that scream for your attention: Buy, Buy, Please God�"Buy!

 

I think maybe we’ve evolved. We’ve come so far. A compliment means nothing if it doesn’t come from a computer screen; we dig our self worth out from wires and portable electronics.

 

I come and I go. I drive. Windows down. And I want to scream, I want to type out on Twitter that I want to scream.

 

But we’ve made it. We don’t need God and Hell is a power outage. I want to drink. To become my true self, to dance around the woods and dream of exploding stars. I’ll vomit blood, but at least it’s real. At least I don’t have to swipe my card.

 

I’m mumbling in my sleep seven nights a week. The American flag is draped on my ceiling, sending signals into my brain: Repeat after me: You are only as important as your job, your car, how you looked on your wedding day.

 

I repeat after the flag.

 

Follow God. Get in your place. Contribute to your country. Your smiles will come from houses and automobiles; the sparks in your eye will be kindled by a 401k.

 

I repeat after the flag. I want to wake up.

 

There are mornings when the yawns spill out of my mouth. There are mornings when I wonder what I’ll do that day.

 

But I know. I know what I’ll do that day.

 

I’ll shower brush my teeth go to work buy lunch from the grocery store get off work fill up my gas tank pick up dry cleaning buy groceries from Target buy dinner from the restaurant down the street sit on my couch and watch television until my eyes bleed.

 

But this was never about me.

 

This is about your face staring at you from an iPhone. This is about America, dreams, happiness, self confidence stolen, ripped out of the bloody hands of some small kid fishing for dinner from the Amazon. It’s morning there. Here�"late night, bar close, and now the happiness comes from destroying. Skin? Bones? Stab and drown them with a cigarette and a shot. You’ll be better off for it.

 

I’ll pay my hospital bill eventually. Does anyone remember how much the ambulance ride costs? Will they accept credit?

 

Or don’t go. Let your body rot away. That’s the American dream: A table full of beer bottles, an ashtray filled to the brim.

 

Now, I’m whole again, free from the new world. Ready to do it all over again when the smoggy sunlight sinks beneath the skyscrapers.

Author's Note

This is the first time I've shared this. Just kind of curious about your thoughts, the voice, the sentence structure, tone, etc. Just the basics.

Reviews

[millennial leo]

I really enjoyed this.... the imagery, the pacing, everything. Unfortunately, it is easy to see myself in this piece. In that way, it is very reflective.

[Justin C]

Thanks so much for the comment! Much appreciated. It's easy to see myself in here as well. That's why I wrote it. But for me, the best way to fix myself is to spill out these words on paper. It's a start at least, you know? Thanks again!