by David Plumb
[ poetry - august 08 ]
Soaks the lawn, floods the drive.
Hot August, Chavez blinks.
Nationalizes the bank.
At home the President calls for surveillance
Phones, tax breaks, cars and milk.
We'll give the farmer a break, yes.
Still, the call to buy
A hand bag, shoes, a necklace
Guaranteed to sparkle Heaven
Or Jesus with Ipod wings
Is not out of question these days.
All along the highway boys and girls dance
Just like before and after.
The rain thins to damp
and thunder claps beyond the palms.
Not bad, you think unless
of course, unless.