what am I? anyway?

the manager of the nearest
gas station reads the new york times
and sighs
            the united states is under
attack by an overactive
imagination while Walt
Whitman debates the
merits of “the next big thing”
developed in Cupertino, California
            information filled with
fodder colors traffic
lights a permanent red
            doctors add rectangular stickers
to infant heads that read “FOR SALE
BY OWNER”
            automobiles make sense of life
through audio books, the secret is in the
fine print and subject to terms
and conditions
            outside
the light turns
green and the urban pastoral
is reduced to an old man
with a gray beard pumping gas
and writing sonnets
about potato chips

Asha Deaving

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