Ivory Pedestals

Do a little dance. Do a little song. American Idol is on tonight. Human combustion machine seen on boob tube glossy miracles of I believe in the dream of I can get the record contract. Of I can be famous. That I can be rescued from my meaningless pointless repetition of 9-5 constants. Of winning the lotto. Of my ship coming in. Vote for me America. Vote for my bleached smile, and surfer haircut. Vote for my boyish good looks. I want to be talked about around water coolers and coffee machines in company break rooms for this entire T.V. season. I want you to tune out your everyday repetitive life and focus on me. I can be your savior. I can be your idol placed on ivory pedestals holding up your 50 inch flat panel, next to your plans of expanding your Florida room because you don't have room for the jacuzzi . . . and the pool table.

You can talk of me when your family gathers for Thanksgiving. We can reminisce about times spent huddled around having family time while you saw my shooting star and grabbed it. And for one moment we were all united. George Washington was watching tonight. He was proud of us as we came together for a moment to see that the roads really are paved with gold. That the roads really are paved with opportunity. Of there being wonderful things here in this country for believers. Our cup does runneth over. Tonight we had the chance to unite and combine our hopes and dreams into one person's future. One person's dreams. We can make them. We can break them. We have a choice. We have a vote. And this time, it does make a difference.