The Greatest Country in the World

This legendary land lies, of course, quite far away,

Farther than the distance between now and then,

But when we finally enter its enchanted gates,

We’ll learn that the CEO knows the temp’s name,

And that the taxis pass right by the bigots

To pick up the trannies and the young black men

On their way to teach peace to the generals’ sons

Who by six have memorized the Tao Te Ching,

All the works of Whitman and Langston Hughes,

And the Cherokee songs of short love and tall corn.

The flying cars run on dandelions and desire,

And no one knows what “cancer” even means.

Everyone gets to be the president for a day

But no one ever needs be a judge.  All guns

Fire thick bread, fresh fruit, and sweet wine,

And never run out of their fine ammunition.

The children gleefully flock to their schools,

Gleaming gold on top of the highest hills,

Which of course overlook the cemeteries,

Which are spotless, revered, and joyous,

Filled as they are with music and dance

And the memories of such brief, bright lives. 

Best of all, not a single citizen has ever said,

“This is the greatest country in the world.”