class antagonisms intensify


Scram, bucko!

I scream at some dude
being weird on my block.

I have to talk that way
because there’s nothing
I own. I mean, the house
where I sleep belongs
to this 69 year old freak
who has never worn the same
pair of underwear twice. I swear
to god, they’re just piling up in a
pit on “his” land. He pays a teenager
to wheelbarrow them there
twice a month.

So I have to say
shit like

Scram, bucko! Kick
rocks! The movies are
too spendy these days
for me to believe
that we’ll end
up together.