Amerika

I always dreamt of America,
A bright place in my 1950’s dreams
Scurrying across the pillow
In the monochrome of the TV
But sharp as gangster
And as defined as a cowboy
Black people in white shirts
And spaceships with monkeys in them
Hamburgers and Coke that you don’t get at the Coop
Road signs and hoardings
Names, games and advertisements
Households with porches and screen doors
Things that I don’t know what they are there for
Each telling some fantasy
That becomes as familiar as a friend
A foreign language I could comprehend
Where the ugly becomes as beautiful
As tailfins, long cigarettes or bucket seats
And so I lay me down to sleep
To dream of the mythical America.