American Nightmare

His parents lived in a tiny hovel in the old country.

They scraped out a living farming the hard, infertile ground.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d crossed over

and worked in a car parts factory,

and lived in a little apartment.

His son watched his father come home from the factory

to their little apartment.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he finished trade school

and worked as a skilled mechanic,

and lived in a bigger apartment.

His son watched his father come home from the gas station

to their little apartment.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he finished high school

and owned his own gas station,

and lived in a house.

His son watched his father come home from the station

to their little house.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he finished college

and owned a car dealership,

and lived in a bigger house.

His son watched his father come home from the dealership

to their little house.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got his BS degree

and owned all the company’s dealerships in the area,

and lived in a bigger house.

His son watched his father come home from a dealership

to their little house.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got his BS degree

and became the CEO of the car company,

and lived in an upscale apartment in Manhattan.

His son watched his father come home from the office

to their one and only apartment.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got his BS degree

and caused his car company to dominate the nation’s market,

and owned a mansion in the Hamptons.

His son watched his father come home from the office

to their apartment.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got his BS degree

and lobbied for looser regulations for his company,

and owned five vacation homes.

His son watched his father come home from the office

to their apartment.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got his BS degree

and caused his car company to dominate the world market,

and owned the world.

And across the ocean, his distant cousins, descendants of the immigrant’s siblings

lived in a tiny hovel in the old country.

They scraped out a living in his car parts factory.

But their sons wouldn’t be satisfied until they crossed over

and worked in a … there are no more car parts factories here

and lived in a little apartment.