Dear America,
You can have back the fence
And the manicured lawn,
The driveway, garage,
The land it's all on.
You can have back the wedding,
The marriage, the spouse,
The 2.5 kids
In the 3-bedroom house.
You can have back the couch
And the big TV screen,
The latest, the greatest
Appliance, machine.
The glasses of milk
And the sliced deli meats,
The curtains, the carpets,
The high thread count sheets.
I don't need your extras,
The watches, the rings,
The closets, the junk drawers,
The things upon things.
You can take back the job
With its 8-to-5 day,
With its handcuffs of promise,
Its 401K.
And the island vacations,
The shopping regimes,
Your Hollywood stars and
Your marketing schemes.
I have bigger dreams...