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Poetry By: Mike Stevens

Life in Suburbia

Submitted:Mar 22, 2012    Reads: 22    Comments: 10    Likes: 4   


By Mike Stevens

Standing on the front porch of their cookie-cutter homes,

Interchangeable people with 2.5 kids and 2.5 cars

Everything is exactly the same; row upon row, mile upon mile

Sodded lawns of exactly 10 feet square,

Crammed between houses like an afterthought

And the houses, with personalities of stone

Mini vans parked on the street out front,

Wait to wisk mommy and daddy away to glass cages,

Where they'll join robotic others pushing paper

Lunch at an overpriced, overcrowded place

Fakers wearing an expensive suit and tie

Nothing ever changes in their make-believe world

They're just a number, no differences stand out

Marching to automated orders from who-knows where?

Get up in the morning, they're on auto-pilot

Turn off their spouse, kiss the big-screen goodbye

Join the other robots on the road; every morning exactly the same

Is it Tuesday or Thursday, nothing to let them know

8 hours later and another nightmare commute home,

And for what? So tomorrow they can do exactly the same again?


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