The Plastic Cross

A matted cross of gray does catch the light, In muted form it shines atop a peak To all of us who hate the dreary sight The massive model church awakes to speak: "Embrace the waste! Industrial people! For whom are you to say, 'I stand apart?' The Earth constructed this plastic steeple Because you molded dreams with plastic heart!" "So bow to your God! Industrial men! The plastic veins inside me gush with you! You're made in my image! Say it! Amen! We'll write a Good Book, friend -- gray plastic, new! But like all gods to which humans pray, To wake from kneeling dreams, god fades away.