Oh, America, you big stupid brute, I love
your huevos rancheros and black coffee,
the way you dance on Saturday night,
your Southern accent and blue denim,
soft magnolia breeze and white-washed
clapboard churches. You are my neighbor,
my old girlfriend, my old demented uncle
who makes me turn away in shame from
such crazy talk, so much blood spilled,
wiped on your shirt. Isn’t it about time
you grew up and opened your heart to love?
Jasper Johns, "Green Flag"
