So long as kids still borrow the family car 
to screw around joyriding 
and tossing crushed beer cans out the windows 
I shall feel at home in these United States.

Thank God for Henry Ford.
Thank God for Texas, 

minus which our fable republic 
would resemble a box of jelly donuts 
without no goddamn coffee.

Perhaps I'm naïve, 
but if the Tasmanian wolf is still alive anywhere 
it's in the wail of feedback and amp-garbled blues chords 
of some insane teenage garage band, isn't it, 
isn't it, I mean.—isn't 
it?