it began to notice it midsummer
when i initiated the ritual
of my daily
life affirming
early evening
bicycle rides
.
my perfect aerial
machine so blue
cutting through
a synthetic mist
of suburban dryer vent exhaust
lavender lilac and vanilla scented chemicals
emitted from the latest
maytag gag-o-matic
into one bastard cloud
.
i decided
.
all of suburban cincinnati is covered in a
gently revolting incidental smog
of old lady perfume
.
in this gloaming time
the cul-de-sac wives
huddle into two groups
.
those who drink wine and smoke
while waiting for the pills to kick in
and those who just drink wine
while waiting for the pills to kick in
.
bitching about their husbands on cue
as they stand indignant
in various shades of pink velour yoga pants
at the end of their driveways
.
just far enough away
so the enemy
won’t hear
.
the hot-boxed group
of matching husbands
wearing
“i pay the mortgage and the only place
i have any privacy from that bitch and these kids
is the fucking garage”
t-shirts
whist drinking middling domestic imports
in a town whose pricey micro brews they can’t afford
.
all to protect the delicate sensibilities
of the lord of the flies children
playing between them
on tonka battery powered humvees
bedecked with
nerf machine gun turrets
smuggling
duct taped half-chewed barbies
with their eyes gouged out
to tiny-tot thailand
.
i get the sense
there is death in the water
a key mineral lacking
in our national diet
.
the country is filled
with these fleeting nightmares
.
communities of sheep
vying for space at a diseased trough
.
american wastelands
.
where the coffee tastes of bad choices
and everyone is waiting
for the kids to be old enough
to get a divorce
.