I am an American

At the Top of the Food Chain
but the Bottom of the Line

by Judith Pordon

I am an American.
I rush to be before the bullet,
as I push air out of my way.
I snap commands, advice
without request, involuntarily.
I wait only briefly for anything.
I comb my hair without looking,
as fast as possible, then
can’t understand why my
strands are haphazard.
I brush past, my goal in sight,
but you, who are you?

I am an averter.
My eyes have never touched
anyone. I will rush to my grave
and even in the tomb
will be pissed, for everything
I didn’t get to finish.

I am an American. I pledge allegiance
to the clock, to productivity, to the bottom line.


Dino said…
An American... hmm...
I mean yes, you are. Somehow it's a bit of lonely when I read over this poem. Somehow I can't say anything. Somehow ...

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