I remember you once asked,
“How should I best serve the people?”
What I’ll tell you will sound hard
but is naturally and fearfully easy.
First, you wanna work at night
when the dazzling stars inspire smooth rhetoric.
In private, mind you. Public needs require secret newsfeeds.
Be sure you have the right tools and the right spot.
What you design in the dark should sound like this:
Each American should have their own place of rest,
fashioned with our lightly taxed cloth
pillows full as a soft father’s hands,
blankets tight as a woman’s grip.
His bed should be framed by the sturdiest wood,
fitting all and only his substance;
teach him to be an individual
and chase his own American Dream,
with no helping hand but yours.
They may wonder about random stuff like
the grave, or the coffin, or what happens at night,
but you can always call the rugged earth a smooth garden
or the grave God’s good and biblical passport.
They’ll each fill so rested and relaxed,
they’ll soon fall asleep and pose no more questions.
Only then can you slowly root them in the country.
If they were awake, they’d tend to wander
about and beyond the border of the lid.
This is OUR nation, afterall.
When others ask “Why?” “Where?” “How?” “When?” you can say:
“A terrorist kidnapped him” or “He wasn’t educated right” or such.
They’ll never suspect you.
And even if the sleepers awake, it’ll be too late.
They’ll be shut in the black, screaming.