Mahogany masonry, stained-glass chandeliers.
Light bulbs, waistcoats, industrial clockwork gears.
Intricate carpets. A rickety red street car,
A collection of glowing bottles kept above the bar.
But we’re no longer trapped by your Victorian era,
Now rises the day of the great carbonara.
Smoke stacks, steam pipes, factories,
Make way for authentic parmesan cheese.
The spirits of factory children, tragically dead
now haunt my Sicilian garlic cheese bread.
The blood of unionizers shot dead by Blaylock
Water down my unseasoned marinara sauce.
Do you think Rockefeller would ever dream
of vanilla and pistachio ice cream?
Of toddlers fussing over chicken tenders and fries
Instead of perishing in his coal mines?
Farewell, American industrialization.
You failed to build a half-decent nation.
Though I must admit, it is satisfactory
That you made a place for The Old Spaghetti Factory
About the Author
E.K. Braffet is a writer, film maker, human rights activist, and restless creative from Nelson, BC. Their works are notorious for sampling classical storytelling tropes and providing them with modern, comical twists. Currently, they are in the Peace and Conflict Studies program at Selkirk College.
