The Suburb of Hackensack

I will go rent a U-Haul, and move to Hackensack,
And a cheap condo buy there, the driveway freshly tarred,
Hard by the Jersey turnpike, a swingset in the back,
And fire my grill in the truck-loud yard.

And I shall drive my car there, alone in my car I'll go,
Bumper to bumper creeping towards the discount malls,
TV will fill my evenings, the blue, flickering glow,
And days, talk radio's raucous calls.

I will move out to Jersey—low taxes there, I hear—
A burglar alarm I'll get me, to guard the place I own,
The hum of trucks will lull me, and fill my sentinel ear
With braking squeal and gearshift's groan.