I am a strip mall.
Long and vacant.
Asking to be be occupied.
Everything is on sale.
I am a Super Wal-Mart.
Filled with imported goods and food.
Electronics and guns for all to buy.
Diapers and candy too.
I am an eight-lane highway.
Hauling ass is my game.
I’m always in a hurry to move you.
My skin is hard but needs to be resurfaced.
I am a Chevron-Wendy’s combo.
Consumption is my middle name.
Fill up both of your tanks on me.
Sometimes I want to just be a gas station.
I am a Football stadium.
Crammed with 80,000 screaming fans.
I dull your senses for a few hours each week.
My goal is to make you not think or blink.
I am a Starbucks drive thru.
I’m on every corner and border too.
I give you the energy to make it through the day.
You pay extra for me because I am your luxury.
I am your land.
The land that your ancestors stole.
You buy me but you will never own me.
I am poisoned with your garbage, but I still live.
I am your history.
You have always spoken of revolution.
You have all come here for freedom.
You don’t know me so you repeat me.
I am your heritage.
You don’t keep me but give me away easily.
You forget the stories and songs that I gave you.
You will want me the most when you don’t remember me.
I am your culture.
I have given you a black hole in your heart you can not fill.
I want you to buy more and to feel less.
I want you to forget and repress.
You are an American.