Wednesday, June 16, 2010

got change?

No. You don't.*

Right now, I choose my political candidate based on whether he or she supports a woman's right to choose.** A politician's views on the environment, education, war, space, health care, and just about everything else aren't important to me anymore, because those opinions change depending on bill sponsorship and corporate funding. I can't count on my elected official to represent me anywhere except in my reproductive freedom. (I don't really believe I can count on that one, either.)

But if you think there's any other real political difference between the candidates, well, keep taking the pills they're feeding you over at Fox and CNN.

Now that BP has soiled our seas, and our leerless feeder has not offered a single solution, nor arrested those responsible for the crime (some accidents are criminal), I think it's high time we surrendered our stars and flew a more accurate flag. We can sew the corporate logos on the new flag, like patches on a Boy Scout uniform, each year according to Fortune 500's annual profits list. The changing of the logos can be celebrated on Flag Day each year, and some lucky citizens can attend the annual celebration at the mall (a real mall, not some strip of museum-front property) and take home a plastic bag of free stuff--AIG-imprinted pencils, a Pfizer heartburn-relief sample pack, coupons for Pepsi, a plastic Bank of America keychain (maybe with the key of someone's foreclosed-upon home!), an oil-soaked pelican Beanie Baby. It sounds remarkably similar to this year's World Expo in Shanghai.

Oh, and a souvenir mini-flag.

- - - - - -

*OK, sure you do. We got rid of a few of some of the previous administrations' insane policies (torture, don't-ask-don't-tell, etc.), and are working toward restoring the civil liberties stolen under the Patriot Act. But I'm angry, so please forgive the hyperbole and hyperventilation.

**Intelligence counts, too, I suppose keep thinking want to believe.

disclaimer: logos are for satirical purposes only and do not represent corporate endorsement; all logos are (probably) registered trademarks of the corporations they represent; offer void where prohibited; drinking recommended

Thursday, June 3, 2010

the spot on the wall

part two

For breakfast Monday morning
I cook my daughter oatmeal
perfect ratio of salt to sugar to oats
served with teaspoon, splash of cream
because I am a bad mother
out of milk since Friday.

I scrub the teakettle shiny again
detail the gas stove’s nooks
hose down the sticky laminate
and bad wife guilt and shame
for this dirty house
its understocked larder.

I break down at the supermarket
cartful of milk and cheese
paused beyond the baby food
asking the floor what a good mom
would have done these twelve years
four months and seven days.

A large kitchen picture hides
the haphazard hashes of inches
random intervals from toddler to ‘tween
whenever I looked up mid-preoccupation
to notice her size and breadth and depth
the bigness of will and spirit.

Sometimes I pull the picture down
and stare at months of marks
wonder what we did that day and why
I put her back against that wall
and whether she was happy then
and whether we had milk.