You Know What?

Your hamsters work hard and

I like that. That’s

emblematic of a household

with a winning attitude. That’s

what’s wrong with this country.

Hamsters lolling on their

shredded hay, lying cheek-down

in their pellets. I want hamsters

like yours. Hamsters that get on that fuschia wheel

and sprint like it’s the end of the goddamn

universe. Since for all intents

and purposes it is. Look

around you, kid. Flashing trees, bread

in striped plastic bags. Ten dollar beers

at the baseball game. Makes me wish

I lived in a glass box like

them, a treat every time you stand

on your hind legs, visitors daily

and a consistent lights-

out. Your birthday every

mothertruckin’ day.