inspired by @her_story 's og poem. Photo is from the 1900s from a historical magazine
Once upon a time they sold us the american dream and we bought it with a few pretty pennies picked up moved in. saw the pictures large, golden houses. so large we didn't even see the cellars. we paid a few more than those pretty pennies. skipped over the remains below us. cobblestones, though they had weird shapes, like pins and needles and bones. we paid a few more pretty pennies, entered the seller's office, and paid the last we had. told us he was sold out, and pointed to the gentlemen on the chairs, in uniforms, suits and ties and shiny shoes. so tall, they barely spared a glance. careless in their gait they kicked up the dirt where they walked, crushed the heads of those too small careless or cruel, the result is the same. their feet, made of briefcases and money, crushed dreams at home. their hands, swinging papers, orders, smashed lives abroad. their tongues, ever flapping, strangled entire nations, states, peoples. dreams evaporated, but somehow the price is still paid. didn't read the fine print. didn't read the specifications. desperation creates opportunity. for the gentlemen on the chairs and now no one who dreams has any pennies. except for the gentlemen on the chairs. their names change, twist and mangle in my head, but they'll always be the gentlemen on the chairs selling us their american dream.
