Bury my mind at Jerked Knee,
This hallowed, sacred ground.
Here it lies with rusted crucifixes
And knotted silk ties
Tossed into a makeshift grave.
Cover up the classified documents
And KKK rally tapes.
Bury them with the bodies of unwanted children
And the guns that shot them.
Stand with your candles lit
And pray to the god of modernity,
A mismatch of tradition and complacency.
Don’t stand here too long,
Or the wax will seal your fingertips.
Mutter the vacant words and be on your way,
Home to the “urban” neighbor
And the ragheads on the television,
Recalling bygone days when the enemy was red
And far, far away.
The only safe haven is the armchair,
Reclined with an oily squeak.
The answers and opinions printed neatly
In black and white,
Folded in the pocket with the remote.
Convenience is a price paid monthly
In a clean white envelope
Sitting on a pile marked “Out,”
Worth every penny.
Forget my mind buried in that desert
Like a lost relative, out-of-state,
If you haven’t already.
It’s quiet out there,
And very, very stagnant.