The discreet charm of the bourgeois has evaporated
& we are left with the imbeciles
Who run rampant around us –
Like glowering sun spots igniting, endlessly,
The visage of infinite sky.
Clean out the doggy bags of chopped heart-strings
Our collective souls linger in,
Smelling out this house of earth.
A natural disaster brings out
Our charitable good side, yet war
Evokes that mean spirit of imperialism
In the name of chauvinistic gain.
Some of Karl Rove’s best friends are gay
But by now no one’s counting;
Maybe the census takers will discover
Who the real home owners by then.
