This heart does not
beat for me or them
for the whiskey or
the American sin
nor the outstretched
hand of greed in
countries where
their citizens don't
even have the basic
right to eat (animals).
The rhythmic thwap,
thwap, thwap is not
for the rushing rivers
in Colorado, nor for
the glowing canyons
of Utah or the grassy
hills in Amherst, not
even for the grandest
of all canyons (ever)!
Because I have an
angry heart filled with
cancers and pesticides
and processed sugars,
I'm sure of [my health].
No one ever told me
the American dream
was to die of McDonald-
ization or Burger King
Nation or a slew of other
man-made diseases.
My congested arteries
thank you, capitalism.
My oil-coated cells want
to shake hands with the
one and only Donald
Trump. My rotting lungs
and intestines can't wait
to meet the President.
My heart beats for you,
America (the beautiful).