The Floods of Lexington Pacheco
Aborted poetry in light of a
Casual nastiness that is less a
Surrogate for a knowing haughtiness
But more the hideous mask of
Personal insecurity
The kind that screams:
"What kind of American are you?
You don't even have a flag on your car.
Your car! Your fucking Car! Jesus Christ,
it's like you're some kind of God damn retard!
I don't know, are you retarded?
No flag, no yellow ribbons, no nothing. Jesus!
God damn you. God fucking damn you! I would
kill you now if I didn't know you were going
straight to hell. At least get a 'National Pride'
air freshener for crying out loud! What is your problem?!
This is America!"
I certainly appreciate a good, well-placed snap; one born quickly and smartly. But, typified of our lost and dying cultural intellect, cold, dumb remarks that attempt to enhance one's own stature only expose the chinks, the cracks and Achilles vulnerabilities.
In us all.
