RAHWAY IN
THE MORNING
Am I bummed out? No, not by
any measure to be measured; just
more a feeling of grief. I'm so
tired of what I see. Here too, even
here too, the real estate shysters
have taken their ground and are
tearing everything up. If I see
another foul black person with
nothing, against some white
privileged fawn of Reggie
O'Brown's Famed Dining Hall,
I may take up arms and fight for
the needy. The Fire Chief here was
some drunken Irish piece of crap who
pissed his pants when he got pulled
over and, when asked to recite the
alphabet backwards while standing
on one fireman's foot, replied, 'Which
planet?' They fired him, they say, but
really just bumped him up another
notch. The undertaker's now a new
Councilman, and the Mayor's a Baptist
Helltown preacher. Here comes that
train again. All the fat, black nightmen
come crawling back from their jobs -
mostly cleaning and orderly gigs, and
the new white pretzels are getting on
to go their their fancy jobs north, in the
city. The guys are thinking of food,
and the girls are thinking of their
sex, the night before, and whether
they left out enough food for the cat.
No comments:
Post a Comment