by Barbara Young
Another century, and it’s the same: dull and terrible,
like state spoons and ceramic figurines. Dull and terrible.
They sold us the cold war like a new Ford or Oldsmobile.
Bomb became joke; annihilation became dull and terrible.
Suburban streets run white with trademarked ornamental pears.
Come fall the trees burst with identical flames, dull and terrible.
We bought the ranch-style brick suburbs and, then, black SUVs.
Wrote sex as a suburban genre, made it lame, dull, and terrible.
School bathroom mirrors glazed with hairspray reflect their faces.
In slit glimpses girls on toilets cry into their hands dull and terrible.
A whitebread, lightbread girl becomes a doughy old woman.
A too-late-to-get it right old poet of a dame dull and terrible.