Pursuit Of

The sun’s hot.  Too hot.
The water’s wet but it’s getting scarce
and the dirt’s becoming precious around our feet.
We look at our kids and say,
don’t get cocky about the pursuit of happiness
being easy.  Get a job and keep looking.
Pass a test and get a job and keep looking.  Kick a ball
and pass a test and keep looking.  Do it all —
go to school kick a ball pass a test get a job
kick a tire
and a man
and a woman
and a queer hide
and a brown hide
and don’t forget that Jesus, he kicked a lot of ass,
so I’ve heard, so we’ve all been told.
Keep looking, kick something that’s already down
and it’ll almost feel like you stumbled over happiness
in the dry weeds that are taking back our lawns.
Keep at it. It has to be here. Someone must have it and
it’s ours, damn it. We’ve got the paper
that says so. We’ve got the muscle. Dislocated
as the bones may be under our good skin,
we’ve still got the muscle and the guns. Rubble
piling up? That’s just good cover
for a sniper. Don’t get comfortable, kid.
You want it you have to hunt it.
You’re going to have to take aim
at the fucks who stole it.
Go get ’em, kid.
Go get ’em.