The American Dream

     I have a Dream.  Not sure just how American it is though.  In fact I can't really get behind much this country, as a sovereign nation, has accomplished.  The details of my dissolution I will keep to myself in respect to your time.  Still that leaves me with a question.  How am I to accomplish my Dream, seeing that it in no way lines up with the one I am being sold daily.  It is the same one we are all being sold, slavery, painted to look like freedom, in the form of money!
     It is a tricky maze they have concocted, or to be more precise, perfected.  In fact, if anything, that is the American Dream.  A labyrinth of lies and deceit constructed over hundreds of years in order to propagate the pursuit of power.  Power, all of which we, the masses, produce yet never attain.  I can see clearly the mechanics, the elegant pattern stitched to produce such a pleasant back drop.  Even still, once you lift the curtain and sneak behind, that world too is just a meaningless replications of what we are taught to see.
     So, how do you escape?  Every exit but an entrance, leading right back to whence you came.  Money, the American Dream, a sham.  A rouse.
     When I was growing up my grandfather owned an autoparts store in Rose City.  He sold car parts from a building he leased with a business license he bought from a city he paid taxes to for every transaction he could hustle himself into making.  In this store, owned by someone other than my grandfather, who was most likely paying a bank priciple AND interest monthly for the right to claim that title, my grandfather had clued a quarter to the ground.  Customers, aiming to fix a car they most likely didn't ACTUALLY own, would walk into the store and see the quarter beckoning to them from it'ssecure location on the ground.  Who doesn't like easy money?  Who wouldn't bend down to scoop up a quarter, which thirty years ago may actually buy you a burger?  That was a meal just lying there,  defenslessly, waiting to be gobbled up.  Everybody gets hungry sometime.
     We are told to respect our elders and there is good reason for this.  The longer you play a game the better you get at it.  Harold, my grandfather, knew the rules.  They were what held him in place, like  glue would secure a quater to the floor. 
      America, you can keep your dream...and your quarters.