The Beach

Too dilettantish and eclectic
to truly grok the Dialectic,
I nurse dead middle-class desires
and dream of setting cars on fire.

My socialistic sympathies
meander aimlessly like fleas
without a dog to colonize.
I look outside and close my eyes.

What lessons do the newsreels teach?
“Beneath the paving stones, the beach!”
But future tense and “hitherto”
paralyze me like superglue.

Who knows—what if it’s just as well
that we’re all headed straight for hell?
Heaven is always out of reach…
(Beneath the paving stones, the beach.)

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