I love America When

I love America when
I'm out on the highway
The vastness of the land
The rolling verdant hills
The wonders of machinery
That stream along with me

I hate America when
I'm back in the neighborhood
A neighborhood with no neighbors
But strangers door to door

In America meta-existence is better
Stooping down to street level
You see
Emptiness, emptiness, emptiness

My favorite place in town
Is that park by the lake
Moms watch their kids play
In the sand, on the swing, on the lawn
I chat with the herado lady
And speak to a Salvadorian guy
Occasionally steal a smile
From a mujer nearby

I sometimes leave some found dolls
Hoping some kids would like them
Enjoying a sense of fatherhood
In my fruitless autumn days

Then with fond memories
I bike to the ghost town
Dodging any police car that might
Tailor me in the depth of the night