Occupy Poetry

An American Street

BY David E. Cowen

here is the dawn of dreams
when the dogs wake to the stretch of light
reddening lazily
in swelling clouds

this is the empty lane
waiting for the oil splattered cars
to stir their rubber feet
and prod onto the painted asphalt
stretching beyond view

here is the dawn of dreams
the bank of america cash card dreams
the playstation, xbox and HDTV dreams
the swimming pools and chrome steel BBQ dreams
dreams worth the dried dust of graveyard blood

here is the street
the American street
where children will play
with shiny occidental crafted bicycles
the spokes were hubcaps
and wheels powered
by German pistons

here is the dawn of the red, white and blue tomorrow
the place where angels
grant wishes for the chosen
the American chosen
above and beyond
those so far away
those who sit empty
and invisible
poster children lost
behind the Sunday comics

here is the street of plenty
of empty
of want
of opulence
the street of contradictions
of purpose and desire

here is the street
of American desire
walked by daughters
who were once loved
without compensation
now entrepreneurs of flesh
walked by old men
slow and deliberate
trying to remember the direction
from which they came
walked by blue suits and pin stripes
brisk and brash
slashing through the dream of synthetic cash
selling America in derivative lots

here is the street of American desire
big brother to the world
schoolyard bully to the world
mentor, lover
arrogant, egotistical,
empathic, self-centered,
the welcomer of victims
the creator of victims

here is the street where you live
where I live
where your father and mother live
where your children will live
all the sins of yesterday and today
flushed clean with the spray of the sweeper
the sweet smell of a false rain
rising from its rotating brushes
as it ambles the empty lane.

David E. Cowen


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