A Dead R(f)inger for the American Dream

Mental hospital sheek standardized curtain rods to operate on a quiet line.

Cutting apart the drapes and styling the scraps like snowflakes,

But it’s raining pills instead. 

Mannequins stand guard,

Hosting visions window-shopping 

For traffic, mastering the above the waist approval.

Head nods.

Crooked smiles.

Pierced ears, septum and the tongue 

To pin down tasty fashions. 

Posted in the window frame 

Were moving pictures. Shadows made useful

From off the glowing screen. 

Company becomes 

In conversations had 

By people ignoring people 

Ignoring people ignoring people. Outside a man shouts

Instructions to commit the perfect crime. 

But it’s past bedtime.

Dreams only become 

To people playing dead.

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