Saturday, May 23, 2020


walking through dyker heights in the spring

trump flags
and banners
bend with the breeze

as the million-dollar homes
of the well-fed and contented

sit lifeless and devoid of character
in the muted daylight

everyone wants you to know
that they’re a patriot here

from the nationalistic mumbo-jumbo
bumper stickers on their big fat cars

to their american knick-knacks
planted in well-manicured lawns

it’s the kind of jingoistic artifice
that we love here in america

cozy bullshit like a warm blanket on your day

no one starves in dyker heights
no one struggles to pay the mortgage or the rent

and they all wear golden bootstraps

at christmas time
people flock here by the carloads

to see the homes all decked out in lights
the lit-up mangers on the lawns

the tin box carols
blaring out into the street

normal rockwell diarrhea
from the smiling faces of fascism
hiding behind the pleasantries
of the season

it gets so crowded that the cops
have to come and control it

rosy-cheeked foot soldiers
waving candy cane billy clubs

at cars full of cherubic white families

who want so badly to believe
in their own benevolent innocence

but who are as fat and fake
and as much of a myth

as jolly old santa claus

--John Grochalski


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