About People

Freddy was a cockroach in the corner
I took him down with the toe of my boot
It was that kind of bar
I left him crinkly-dead on the floor
The evidence of blunt and violent cleansing
right there for all to see
Let that be a lesson to your kind, you bug
Was there the next day
Now it’s
the day after that and
he’s still there
Regulars grumbling at the news on TV
Talking about the war
“Again with this shit —
always something with these people”
Freddy doesn’t hear it of course
being too dead for politics

Up the street there are gunshots
or so it would seem from the sound
College kids slumming look anxious
like they wanna run
but who the fuck knows if it’s safe
Regulars look up from their keno cards
Pay it exactly one dead cockroach’s
moment of mind — “it’s always
something — happens all over
Always something with people”

That’s a Thursday enough for me
and my roachkiller boots
Big death on the TV screen —
I could get that anywhere
Big fear in the half-gentrified street —
I do get that everywhere so

I take myself home
to a joint and Snickers bar
Watch TV some more and try to convince myself 
we don’t all hate each other
even more than the modicum amount
of hatred we grew up on
We’re driving into a cold-water pond
drunk or stoned and as for Freddy
he just got eaten by one of his own
back in the corner of the bar
where the regulars grumble 
and the slummers shiver

It’s always something with people