America, they say you love the taste of blood,
Today’s hysteria long past mad cow disease,
there’s contaminated milk from China and now
tuna is on the list again, every fish a thermometer.  
Listeria  is the new barometer of our madness. 
Lettuce and tomatoes are out to get us, the beef
has too much fat; I do not suggest that salad
is our hemlock. I merely ask.   Interest rates
might go up.  We pinch pennies, weep and moan
so we can buy a bigger house, flat screen tv’s
in every room with cable hook ups that stand alone,
plus on demand because we’re never there. We’re selling
our country and not even to the highest bidder. It ‘s all
about glitter and whose is the shiniest.  How much have
we spent on stained glass windows and, still, none of us
are saints.  There are ugly rumors of default.  Whose fault?
Your fault? My fault? The fault of politicians?  Blame it on
San Andreas…tectonic, no fault of our own.  Summer’s gone
and the stink bugs stay.  They spray and spray;  leaves are
falling. Who’s to say if it’s the poison or just autumn doing
her thing?  Even the wild geese are too fat to use their wings. 
I’d tighten my belt but there’s no more room.
America, who poisoned whom?

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