Rows upon rows

of identical 3-bedroom homes

say “success,”

but where are all the

happy families?

Wrought-iron statues

depicting long-dead

historical figures

say “tradition,”

but what happened

to all the sculptors

and scholars?

An assembly line of shining,

suped-up cars —

plastic fenders

sprayed with glinting chromium

paint says “progress,”

but what have we

left behind?

A wide-open field

of gleaming

gilded lilies swaying

in the breeze

says “prosperity,”

but where did all the food go?


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I need back-ups,

I.E. plans B through Z,

A fail-safe

For each stumbling block,

May sound unnecessary,

But mistakes,

Congregate in flocks,

And I’d rather be on the safe side,

Than caught in a landslide,

On the wayside.

Going without,

A direction in mind,

Is like running through a wildfire,

While drenched in kerosene,

And even though the situation is dire,

All you have to say is “eh, c’est la vie.”