In this asylum of the nouveau riche
You may watch them as they congregate
First one, then two
Each wearing fall lulu lemon uniforms
and tapping their artificial nail tips across their smart phones
preoccupied with weight loss
and in awe of their microdermabrasion results
holding so tightly to the last years of their squandered youth
It was a kinship of lawn gnomes
Emotionless and apathetic 
I was reminded of window mannequins
And imagined knuckle draggers Lifting them from pose to posturing 
While simultaneously preparing their own camouflage and orange uniforms
for their November hunts
Occasionally they will leave the garage door open
Likely to release the congestion Of lawn fertilizer, beer bottle empties and mini van exhaust
The lawn gnomes lament of loveless marriages
While their immigrant nannies entertain their feral children
A teacher was fired for issuing a zero grade For incomplete schoolwork
Apparently there is a no-fail policy
And I strain to find something to reassure me
That our future is not doomed
But I fever and imagine
My own body blowing up In a fiery crash
with an ATV

words © malai carrara