poem
Volume 29, Number 4

American Dream

I want to fly drunk, kill a monster with my bare 
hands, remarry my wife on the edge 
of a cliff as the lemmings dance around our feet, 
confused of what comes next. I want to wear a cape 
and have no one ask me why, 
why people keep dying in school hallways, at concerts, 
while standing outside hotels and on sun 
drenched sidewalks. I want old to mean old. 
I want young to stay that way. 


—Hunter Conway