The bald soprano was hiding in the bushes.
You better say something or I will.
God is watching is not good enough. Tell
them the neighbors can see everything.

What’s going on? How has this happened?
It’s just…I feel like, I feel, I feel like jelly:
wobbly, shaky, and just confused.
It’s the end stage of cultural decadence.

All the self-loathing…a delirium
into which America as a whole has fallen.
I’ve decided I need a break: a chance to celebrate
happy me day. I’m out of here, as the kids say. Later.

I pull up on easy street at the end of the block.
I read somewhere everyone in this neighborhood
believes in God even if they are atheists.
I think, wow, that’s my kind of place; just like back home.

Don’t forget to lower the lid. There it is, civilization
in one simple directive. Will it be followed?
That is my question.
A society that forgets is doomed.

We are on the brink of public defecation,
fecal matter in the stairwells, puddles on the steps.
We’re one inch away from becoming
a dog society, a shit-hole, yes!

If we don’t take measures soon, we’ll
become indistinguishable from Mogadishu.
The mutts roam the streets today,
their asses exposed as they sniff.

Degeneracy has little to do with bank
accounts or poverty. The help who kept house
in St. Louis, Buffalo, and in Memphis scrubbed
floors clean enough to eat off of. They were shiny.

They smacked their kids around; they ruled.
Lower the lid. Flush. Washed the kids’ mouths
out with bars of soap. There’s still hope.
It will require getting tough.

They’ll need more than a good talking-to, mark
my words. Tough is preferable to rough. Men
can’t do it. The whole country needs to mind
their manners. The job depends on the women.