The American dreams of a frameless canvas
spread as far as the eye can lead.
The eyes lead the American.
Vision is the only positive sense,
the others prefer to be left alone.
The American knows absolutely.
Any partial understanding may as well
go back where it came from.
The American is ennobled by ownership,
dignified through written rites
verified by the right to squander.
Squalor enrages the American,
unless it's our squalor or
too far away to spoil the scene.
The American always raises the stakes:
small losses are bad deaths
while little wins cannot satisfy
even the American child.
The American's mirror
defies fun and accuracy;
the house widens
the lawn greens
the future both nectar and teal.
The American's power justifies itself;
check the definition.
The American triumphs and earns
accolades, gold rings, and heavens.
Endings do not bother the American,
the ending happily saunters in
to confirm what the American
long suspected: the story was
written for the American's pleasure.
The American prefers to see
without being seen
for the American does not
like to be taken out of context
and loves to watch the world stumble
from the eyeball attached to
the American doorbell.
The American likes to understand
from the beginning;
confusion signals the start
of something the American has heard of
but does not believe in --
American constraints.
Roman Ryan 