Demography Poem by Ernest Hilbert

Here in the state park, we hear talk of Wal-Mart's
Amazing deals, about how well Google Maps
Displays the camping grounds. When we retire,
At sundown, firecrackers and shouts go till all hours
As tiny screens light up around the campfire
And teens roar in the communal showers.

ATV's start with a barrage of farts.
We wake, drowsy, shaken, and peer through tent flaps.
We've entered the land of Jesus, Jacuzzis,
And jet skis. Canary and cobalt, they cut the lake
Apart and send out shocks that bob the boat we sail,
Casting white sprays up from broad white asses.
We feel helpless in the gasoline breeze,
And lonely, enclosed by families with fake
Tattoos, squirt cannons, FaceBook, and e-mail.
We try to read while they blast New Country.

The big guy in the neighboring tent
Sounded rude, and I wonder what he meant.
His shiny trash blows all over the grass.
I pick some up, but more comes, and it's windy.
I know we are the sum of what we choose.
They have five rowdy kids. We, none. We lose.