It's easy to be patriotic
especially when
you can buy it at traffic signals
as it walks up to you —
tender hands soiled in the exhaust of city life,
stretched out,
selling your patriotism wrapped in plastic
as you toss out some expendable currency.
You feel good twice over —
some for the fact
that you have what it takes
to buy patriotism
every time it is auctioned,
and somewhat because
your sense of goodwill
is buying someone their lunch today.
They just smile at you,
yellowed teeth and blackened nails,
flinching at how idiotic money really is.
And as you walk away,
clutching your conscience like change
the real patriot sells your illusions back to you.
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