Feckless
It’s the cars I tell you
he rants driving down the freeway
Twenty miles from the gas station to the rear
Fifteen to the town ahead and
The sun, the sun blares like a klaxon
And the cars carry the ills of the world
he screams slamming the wheel against the heel
Of his palm, oh yes the cars—curse them all—
Have brought us suffering and all evil
They carry to our doors
Every hate of man (oh the death and suffering)
trains planes pay no mind
It’s the automobile that has ruined the world
He rages in the passing lane foam flecked lips
Ten over till finally
In his fury he stops and slams the door
Grabs the shotgun from the back
And with a bestial roar he dispatches the tires
And the rest go into the motor
Until his murder spent
He begins the long walk into town alone
his self-righteousness intact
In tow behind him
