Friday, August 21, 2015

7063. LOADED

Forgive the marketplace, it's filled with dread. The streets
of Newark are filled with State Troopers, filling in and aiding 
the ineffectual city cops as people fall with bullets in their heads.
Too many to be comfortable about, they say, but I say let them fall,
let the bastards kill each other off, let them fall. Over by the 
Prudential Building it all looks calm enough  -  rows of cheap 
dollar stores and bright-blue street-boy clothing and sneakers.
'Dress me right to die tonight,' one would think to say.
Now the drums come marching in : two local police on 
motorcycles, screaming back at the crossing hordes to move 
along, out of the way. Lights are blinking  -  fuck me, it's just 
another bunch of political goons  -  the Cory Booker stenchers 
and the Chris Christie fools. It's time for rail-tunnel-talk 
with the jerks from New York. In my car, here at the light,
Leonard Cohen is singing : 'Democracy is coming, to the USA.'

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