National Cake

Assume it all, even gravity
and the color of skin. Hate the way
airfields always face the wind.
Assume the hate, it’s as predictable
as the time it takes for two
dissimilar bodies to hit the ground
after being thrown from the pulpit.
Assume deafness in the argument
of any Sunday’s homily.

Assume nothing less than the rumble
of eight cylinders backing out
of the garage next door.
Do not admit to peeking.
Describe the car from memory,
finishing the neighbor’s sentence.
Read it with sunglasses and repeat
it to the illiterate. Make up stories
about men in turtlenecks. Pretend
that smiles are meant. Assume
someone’s hand is on the shoulder
of the pawn cheering you on.
Sweep the square clean where
you expect it to land.

Assume the lids to jars are safe.
Chemically sleep, let microbes replace sheep.
Take an aspirin and imagine dissolution.

Assume the sun is there for you;
pride yourself for seeing it first.
Print up words that control the sight
of your believers, keep them slippery,
glistening. Assume they hold a gun.
Assume it is loaded.

Retell a star’s demise, assume her wealth
was poison. Dress her in chenille,
pretending to know cashmere.
Discuss her manners, pointing at errors
in her hems. Hide your pleasure
and tell someone while purchasing soap.
Vote for wider sidewalks and tinted
windshields. Keep the best homes
off the streets. Vote.

Assume the needles on the pines recur for you.
Bristle at the sound of saws. Speak through
parchment and wear fedoras. Clip the hair
in your nose and wipe your feces with papered
scents. Boil the water from foreign shores.
Assume the curricula is on demand,
listed on a lunch menu. Keep an eye on the trough.
Construct the biggest columns, the softest bed.
Own leopards and opals. Keep them in chests
of woods from the farthest trees felled
by sweating men with pierced skin.
Watch the screen for a clue, a game piece,
something to fit the assumed blank space.

Now do it again with different names.
Seam up bellbottoms with carbon fiber,
replace the nicotine. Get a divorce,
get a better ladder. Change borders.
Use salt next time.

Lawrence! Wow! That's an epic of image! It reminds me of a line by a great comedian who, when talking of America's tradition of placing their hand on their chest during the national anthem, that the only other Empire to do that was the Roman Empire. He commented that you really only had Vomitoriums left to look forward to. You live in an incredible country (read: admiration and fear).

Oh. I really do not mean any disrespect by this.

Downright bitchy, but in a highheeled way. Ultra Americano.

Excellent read, thanks.

Thanks Grant and DW. Been playing with the second person thing, puts the reader in charge of the narrator.

larry

I'm not an American, but I think this is even more relevant now than when written.

Terrific Larry, a joy to read.

I'm not an American.

B.

I missed this one first time around.  It's such a natural pick.  Love the surprising language.

Rick

Hide your pleasure
and tell someone while purchasing soap.

Were you standing on the other side of the Ivory aisle when I said, well, you know . . . . What I said?

I love this poem.  Absolutely a natural pick.  Somebody needs to send B a check for sending such great stuff back to the surface.   

This works so well for today.

Just tell me where to post my address.

:)