|by Santiago del Dardano Turann
My father bought a house in ‘72
Built new upon eight acres in the country
As an electrician on old Gilkey’s crew
Which also let my mom stay home with me.
The numbers of his weekly bank deposit
Match mine exactly, but that same life-style
Lay far beyond my economic orbit
That spins upon the downside of the bubble.
The shrinking dollars blow across the breach
That grew despite the years of ‘growth utopia’
While trickling-up and further out of reach
Like some neglected garden’s withered flora.
The country’s turned a peak, or so it seems
When staring at the economic gauges
A sliding hill of lost American dreams
Sold out for cheap junk and for cheaper wages.
Santiago del Dardano Turann was born
in 1968 in Ohio. He has worked blue collar
or retail jobs his entire adult life. He began
writing poetry in 2006 and his work has
been published in numerous journals such
as Centrifugal Eye, Oak Bend Review, and
The Externalist. He lives in San Francisco.