Dream of America

I dream of America and
all those neon nights of
flashing ATMs and off-duty
taxis speeding past us

meanwhile, we seek freedom
from want and fear, to worship
as we please (or not at all)
and to write our own story

amidst those acres of corn and
soybeans stretching as far as
the eye can see, scratching it
out on sidewalks, chalking it

down on the playgrounds, scripting it
down on the sloping driveways as
the sun falls and the fireflies
blink out their morse code

into the inkyblack preceding
silvery dawn and another day
heatscorched