ponytail now gray,
enduring as the word,
Larry the legend,
eight hours in the mill,
then, on sweltering afternoons,
onto steep roofs,
hit the bar at nightfall,
sucked down a few beers,
did it all over again.
no trace of mellow, he queried,
“Still into that radical shit?
Don’t tell me you’re voting for Hillary.”
I’m voting against a billionaire
hustling motherfucker who’s spent a lifetime
screwing small contractors,
just like you, brother.
“But he’s not a career politician,
We need to shake things up in DC.”
Since, November 8,
I go to the gym. I take long walks.
I play with my grandchildren,
eat dinner with my wife,
chant “Water is Life” at peaceful rallies,
spend too much time on Facebook.
None of what I do is “radical shit.”
Your “shake up?”
It’s a SHAKEDOWN!
They’re laughing at all of us.
We’re all their contractors,
waiting on checks that won’t come.
Feature photo by Bill Burke.