To a New Season
There are many things, like onion rings
That need not exist at all
They sound so good, like scented wood
And not at all banal
Kits that check your DNA
To tell you how to eat
And yellow plastic warning tubes
The Town affixes to your street
Fried sticks of mozzarella
Scones that have no taste
Investors in stock markets
Almost all our waste
Vans with just one rider
Humans going to Mars
People owning land
Fast food joints and bars
All of our religions
Sports and candy corn
A thing called patriarchy
Only caring for unborn
Sticky traps for rodents
Racism and war
Uniforms and prisons
Words like slut and whore
Two senators per state
Regardless of population
Artificial boundaries
That separate each nation
Yes, we have made a lot of things
That have no rhyme or reason
I hope they wither on the vine
Giving birth to a new season