Forests like theme parks
And yellow buses,
Full of children
Passing by.
Truckies eyes glazed on
Always road,
In the down-ramp
Off-ramp,
Concrete imagination
Of the country.
Flags like turned backs
On a negligible history,
Waving on,
As if believing
You're right,
Actually
Makes you right.
The world is on sale,
Under the star spangled hammer.
