Full Stop

 

Cut off with no blinker, FULL STOP

at a green light.

These drivers, man

I swear there’s no thought

 

Wreckless endangerment

Wrecked our idea of common sense

 

Then again, it’s BOSTON

Cannibalistic pilots have been eating another alive

For decades

God forbid if they’re on the dotted white picket

Fence

Chances are they won’t let you know

 

Since I was birthed

I watched the Citizens burn

With anger and aggression

Road burned Massholes

Taking pride in their stereotype for all the wrong reasons

Never mind this feckless season

 

We were cut off with no blinker

FULL STOP at a green light.

Welding metal to metal.

Who would’ve thought

We’re at fault.

 

 

*

 

Get a job.

 

Steel woolen hair

drenched like soggy bread

I waltz into Mr. Proper’s office

wearing my boxy corduroy blazer

that’s faded dusty and tailored

with high watered down khakis

I’m preparing to be a professional lackey

My mismatching dress socks internalize

my congruent feels of working as

an underground disk jock.

 

Crammed under monk-strap shoes

and broken toes attempting to get out

I’m located in the high tower

labeled “Fanatic Center”

straight marooned on the 52nd

longitude with no view

Only of a few feathered vultures

dressed in gucci-esque threads

“Congrats you get the stats,

We’ll put you to work

for free to get XP!”

What a delight to be

another blighted fool.

They show their true feathers thereafter

I’m tethered, shackled to the

Mundane debtor’s endeavors.