American Gothic Poem by David Cooper

Standing here watching the setting sun go down behind the Wal-Mart parking lot. Where else can I get spirituality and cheap goods made in China by children in sweatshops? I mean free enterprise is not so damn free, now is it? I sho' do love living in the land of poverty where the minds are bereft of history. Standing here waiting for the evening sun to go down, go down behind the Wal-Mart parking lot where the crack hos and meth hos turn their tricks out, then light their pipes and blow their brains out looking for that American dream that flimflam scheme. These meth and crack heads are zombies—the living dead. Bambi is twenty-five without a tooth in her head. That's why I'm standing here watching the sun go down behind the Wal-Mart parking lot, watching Bambi go down for a nickel and a dime.