The Pyramid

We sit upon our chair
and sit upon it wrong
legs over the arms
or tipping it backward
sitting on our chair
breaking it apart.

The american is a wanter
from morning til evening
dreaming about wanting
instead of doing
americans want and
it doesn’t matter what.

At the family picnic
orchestrated by a loud uncle
all the cousins are lined up by size
to get on each others’ backs in the making
of a pyramid until
everyone laughs
when it falls.

To make our noise
we slam our doors
not to send a message
other than ‘look at me’
we are slamming our doors
off of their hinges.

As american as the next
boy at the bus stop
I too want my wants
to be something else
to be more haunted by
where we are headed.

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About mrsorenson

NOT my president
This entry was posted in poem, poetry, song and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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