The American Experiment | Angela Meredith
It’s about sex and eggs,
the hen, the grade,
and what they cost.
Though the coffer can cover
your transatlantic escapade,
weekly salon date,
and everything come Christmas.
Money isn’t the issue
unless rent is short
or you live in a scrappy lot
behind a strip of shiny stores
with signs to keep you out.
Unless you sell hand jobs for a hit
or a quick fuck feeds the family.
Maybe you slide candy
and cigarettes across a scanner.
Tap the buttons. Rip the receipt.
Thank you and goodbye.
Maybe you work 8 to 5
in a squat building,
coming with the office casual
and a packed lunch.
Maybe you mow the lawn.
Maybe you let it grow
even though you know
pollinators are doomed.
We idolize the innovators, the inventors,
the founders of fast everything.
God how we worship
he who gives us a new way
to spend money we don’t have.
Whatever you do, don’t make it political.
Don’t mention the planet
or living things that depend on it
or how we’re all in it together:
roomies but not friends.
Don’t mention how it is finite.
Say nothing about equality.
Say nothing about how the few take more than the many.
Don’t mention how our suffering is optional.
Watch it burn or take a turn.
Nothing has been written.
We pick the ending but be thoughtful.
They aim to destroy you.
Maybe unplug from the machine.
Maybe take a breath.
Maybe go outside.
Maybe notice the shadows are stretching.
Scream if you must, but do it with your eyes open.
about the author:
Angela Meredith holds a BA in liberal studies, an MA in creative writing, and a graduate certificate in professional editing and publishing. She has a career in marketing and communications and is currently the communications and marketing director for a nonprofit in Tallahassee, Florida. Her work has been published in Bayou, The Great American Poetry Show, Freshwater, Origami Condom, and Iron Horse Literary Review and is forthcoming in Moonstone Arts Center’s World Poetry Day anthology.