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.'