The American Dream

 

I can’t believe

I’m slaving for

An electric eye

On the garage door,

For a billiard table

And a dozen cues

Which we had to have

But never use.

It’s hard to accept

I’m breaking my back

For a summer home

No more than a shack,

For three TVs,

And a new golf cart,

For a  microwave and a Cuisinart.

I’m paying six stores

And three bank loans

So my kids can talk

On their private phones.

So the neighbors can say

What a beautiful lawn.

While I worry my way

Toward another dawn.

It started out as a 

 wonderful scheme,

Working for the

  American dream.

But there’s a crack in the dream

And it’s getting wider

What’s so good about being

A good provider?