JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE
SLEEPING WITH WYATT EARP, DOESN'T MEAN THE LAW
IS ON YOUR SIDE
(Pottsville, PA)
I crossed the doleful jail where they held the
Molly McGuires in Pottsville, Pennsylvania -
it was a sad and sorry site, that place of execution :
where the wind still howled and the lawn-streets
had repercussions . When the dead men blinked
twice, that was the miners' signal.
The place was in an uproar.
-
Why would a man be forced to dig the earth for
pennies and then die beneath the ground? Black lung
and Irish puke, the hacking and the spitting - all of
that so as to make someone else's fortune while they
laugh in your tired, lined face. Everywhere I look is
unseen injustice. The piles of the dead, without words,
just rotting in a heap. If sorrow had a flag,
it would be flying here.
-
Yet now that's all in the past; people scrounge
and work for pennies still. I watch them at the
luncheonette and the five and ten cent store.
There's nothing there anymore - the busiest
place I see today is a soiled, doughty old storefront now
now selling used clothes - and it was once the A&P.
Shows how things go, and how they used to be.
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