Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore
Her’s is a self effacing plight, the Americenne. Each new tragedy delivers challenge unto her tabled plea; a complex life for her to own, a job in cities far from home.
A dream so real she’d ought to be free. Within it, without it, making belief.
For shape to take her life and run, how still can man make her become? A violence so slow we’d ought to read, between the lines from whiter eaves.
There is no place she can call home, where ‘liberty’ demands a throne.
To those who dream with open eyes, the most real scare is that which binds. To vote and swear allegiance to, She may prepare a meal for two.
