MIDDLE CLASS MOODS

Copyright 1996, held by Timothy Herrick

Election day jeopardy.

No predicting the whims of

my heart or the direction

of the electorate.

It was Reagan for so long.

The Clinton was fleeting

but who was really feeling

like Nixon instead of JFK?

Piano tinkers with the freshness of the air.

A white curtain sways with the breeze.

A candle stick, long and red

on the table, unlit.

The sunset in the wine glass.

A mutual sip, averted glance.

We agree to whisper.

Another night, no smoked turkey

or dried tomatoes.

Vodka mouth ordered

honey on the flesh and kisses to drink.

Sweat for the main course

raw meat for desert.

A lot of cigarettes,

music with saxophones.

Screaming, moaning.

I don’t care about me

I’ll do anything you say.

I want to be the penis

piercing the altar

of her propriety and logic.

A messiah of desire,

I’ll alleviate the anguish

her father bestowed.

Call me sugar, let me

grant childhood wishes

and adulthood urgencies.

She laughs at my bachelor leather.

She has her own shining armor

and no use for a confessional.

She talks about the things

we own, the property that will

ensure our

children’s safety

and restore civilization

to the future world.

It’s like dancing in the street.

We waltz into a ballroom,

strut into a honky tonk,

refuse to sit in a cabaret.

End up in a place called Joe’s.

Other patrons

as silent as the baseball players

hanging on the wall.

All we can pay for is American beer

and fifteen songs on the Jukebox:

FM hits we first heard

ten years ago, driving home.

We’re victims of whatever,

including: the shape of the moon,

arrangement of the planets

the amount of prayers we meant to say.

Caress the crystals in our pockets

measure the weather against our pores.

Discuss the kind of day

we each had at work

and the specific memory

invoked in the dreams

we had the night before.

Sometimes we embrace

the achievement of individuality

put the glory of faith

behind the Free Market.

Some people are rich,

more people are poor,

but look at the cities

how bright the lights

before implosion.

Who needs an infrastructure?

Lower taxes.

We can afford

a few pretty toys.

This is freedom.

Compassion is not a consideration.

The system secures survival,

just not for all.

But bills always appear in the mail.

We relate to the working class,

resent the wealthy.

Rather read a book

than watch Television.

You’re wrong; they’re right.

Redistribute resources.

Let the government control everything.

Just stop the war

and give us food.

Respect the Constitution

but burn the flag.

God determines the effect

history has on our lives.

Interpretations are based

on education,

the experience of

childhood and the randomness

of emotion.

Every cause

seeks a result.

Above the rain, sunshine bleeds

into the sky:

oblivious—totally.

Cool head, rigid finger

seeing but not touching

the lever,

trying to remember

what media information seemed truthful

and the color of the candidate’s eyes.

Republican or Democrat?

Who had better commercials?

Am I happy in love?

How is that meal digesting?