A morning snippet of Vi Ransel poetry

From "The Driver" - -

What’s the harm in your daughter
pining to be a pig like Paris,
or wearing jeans sell-out movie stars
and musicians push at us,
or your son idolizing a vulgar,
greedy glutton like The Donald,
or your husband worshipping a drug-using,
woman-beating sports icon,
or your wife reading the rag mags
from cover to cover
to see which star’s just impregnated
and jilted his lover,
or your boss admiring the wisdom
of executives from Enron
for the clever theft
of their employees’ retirement funds,
or our children watching us try
to imitate celebrities
which gives our stamp of approval
to role models like these
latest idols
of American material excess
whose very lack of character
is seen as success,
whose identities we try to buy
since we see these leeches as our “betters”
and whose conduct we endorse by buying
the junk they shill in an effort
to define who we are -
very few of us could deny it -
but how unique could it be
when somebody else can buy it?