I’m living the American Dream now,
except that I’m wide awake.
So, it’s this kind of
a surreal waking dream thing
that my subconscious
is having a hard time processing.
I mean, I’ve got the white picket fence,
and we’re working on the 2.4 children
which could give you nightmares
if you really think about it.
We’ve got a single-family home
and a gas-guzzling SUV,
and we know this is the dream
that we’ve been hoping to achieve.
But now that we’ve got it,
we’re left wondering.
Is this it? Is that all there is?
A puppy dog but no pony?
I know one thing.
I might need to go out
and buy a sports car to get
through this mid-life crisis.
And if that doesn’t do it, then
I’ll have a divorce and a trophy wife.
It doesn’t matter if the American Dream
becomes a recurring nightmare
as long as I wind up
in a house on the beach,
listening to Jimmy Buffet
and drinking margaritas with
a couple of buddies who all
remember when they bought
into an ethos that looked a whole
lot better on TV than it ever did in reality.
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