I live in a town in a country called America.
When I walk down the street I’m detained by pretty buddhists
and they hold mirrors to my face,
asking what makes me free.
I admire the craftsmanship of the American bird feeder
with squirrel-proof defense mechanism.
And I’ve been doing good, you know
running a lot of errands
also asking myself well how did I get here
why am I holding these grapes
and this thing I’m forgetting to mention.
I believe in the freedom to decide
just not to pay attention.
I don’t need to tell you it kind of looks like rain.