Elegy for the American Dream — Summary

Remember us with our animals — tabby, chihuahua, pot-bellied pig, their faces alive with imputed thoughts that they thankfully never voice, antidotes to the never-quiet barkers on our screens. Remember us with our screens, those escape hatches. Remember us lifting our pets as we lift each other’s bodies to our avid, lonely mouths, saying: these ones we will spare, these ones we will hold in our thoughts, hemmed in by indifferent neighbors & blank streets in subdivisions where the last untended corners host colonies from Eurasia. Remember us on our mowers sailing alone around the yard, faithful as any pilgrim to a labyrinth. Remember us on our toilets, learning to let go (with the aid of laxatives) in our most often remodeled room, enthroned above the waters of a vast & literal Lethe whose tributaries drain every home & office. This is what we love, more than anything: the privilege of absent-mindedness. This magic trick. We flush, & our shit & piss, our used condoms & tampons, our unused medications, our extra-soft toilet paper made entirely from tree pulp — it all spins around three times & vanishes with a gurgle. Remember us with our exclusive membership cards & our spent members. When we die, fill us with preservatives & seal us away beneath an immaculate lawn. Remember us who labored so hard to forget.

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Dave Bonta imagines a future looking back at suburban Americans and asks to be remembered as we really lived: with pets, screens, riding mowers, and heavily remodeled bathrooms. The speaker's tone is wry and quietly bitter. The details are funny, like the pig, the laxatives, the "exclusive membership cards" and "spent members," but they add up to a picture of lonely, isolated people hemmed in by indifferent neighbors and blank streets.

The center of the poem is the toilet. Flushing becomes a "magic trick" that makes waste, condoms, medications, and even tree-pulp paper vanish, and the speaker links it to Lethe, the river of forgetfulness. The "privilege of absent-mindedness" is what the dream really delivers: not having to see the consequences. The ending is the sharpest turn. Buried under an immaculate lawn, preserved and sealed away, we ask to be remembered as people who "labored so hard to forget." The mood is mournful, mocking, and uncomfortably familiar.

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