Kurt Brown muses acerbically on nostaligia for a prior pop culture, as well as on the new fixations of aging Americans: "gods have names like Metamucil, Zantac, / Rogaine, Viagra," and "Perhaps it's our irrepressible American spirit, / the soul of P.T. Barnum invading our chests: heart attacks as huge as the Rockies or the heads / at Mount Rushmore." This book is also gently infused with outlandish parables: "Is it the ocean / or the little puddle of his tears? / Is this his dinghy / or the frayed boards of his ego, scoured by storm?"

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