"State of the Union"

The sky's net of jet trails
Keeps you down inside your cage,
Your fenced-in prison--Suburbia.
Stand atop your backyard bunker
And declare your independence;
Oh-ho say, can you see!
By the sun's setting light
That blue-red-white flag
Dangles limply from the pole.
Walk back into your white house,
And crush the grass underfoot
To find solace in the hardness
Of day-warmed concrete and metal.