We speak of freedom, democratic
Virtues sprouted from our lifelong
Nursing at the breast of fortune;
We molder in our independence:
Parasitic infants fattening
Off the blood of outgrown heroes,
We gabble peace and unity.
We string the bunting, striped and spangled,
From the white-washed country porches;
Strike a match on our awareness,
Light the wick of self-delusion,
Watch the bursting spitting fire.
With drooling smiles of satisfaction
We wave our sparklers, line the roads
With tattered, dirty, plastic flags
And, dazzled by the flash and fizzle,
We pretend that we believe.
We, freedom’s guardians, are reduced
To pudgy fists that wave cheap toys
One day a year for celebration,
And shout for freedom while reclining
On our lawn chairs in the evening
And complain about mosquitoes.
Pray God the day will never come when
We are called to light gunpowder
In something other than the colored
Ten-cent box of firecrackers.