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How to be a Good American

This snarling mass of cars go past at
Breakneck speed, each one containing
But a single harried drone, who dreams
Of home and rest, but knows that leaving
Work for suburb only means a different
Set of tasks. A brace of children wait
To go to soccer games and tap-dance
Classes. Just as well; the adage holds,
Some half-millennium away from when
Those English zealots came: in idleness,
Evil awaits, so work, so never pause for
Thought. In cash and phony Tudor
Houses is one's worth. One needn't
Read. One needn't understand a thing.
The point is to be moving always in a
Snarling mass.

poem by Lawrence Beck
Added by Poetry Lover
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