AFRAID OF THE SUN
By Joseph Musso
Wander Night Streets
stagger
&
stumble
&
fall
&
crawl
back
up
&
stagger
&
stumble
&
fall
&
crawl
back
up
&
stagger
&
stumble
&
fall
&
crawl
back
up
insects buzz like jets
dive-bomb like kamikazes
they PENETRATE my skin
suck out my blood
suck me dry
not one of them smiles
not one of them comes up for air. I know my place Here On Earth
my function
I know I am here to
feed the insects
the ticks
the mice.
My function is to keep the parasites alive.
My function is to keep myself alive
for them.
America’s disposable
heroes don’t have
jobs
families
we don’t have
college educations
we’re the first ones to be poisoned in squalid death camps called
SMALL TOWNS
experiments on the water
air
food
psyche
we are the laboratory rats injected with cancer
we are the disposable population
the test products
the throwaways
Mengele’s grandchildren
Reagan’s screaming orphans
playing in the contaminated yard to see if it’s safe for the
Trump kids
we are the first on the beach in world war two
we are the food tasters for the king
the canary in the coal mine
& when times are tough we are
the first ones blamed for the downfall of
the free world
we are the ones herded into unemployment lines
courtrooms
prisons
we are the ones put on display in
one fell judgmental swoop
one cage
one train car to the death camps
studied
analyzed
discussed & picked clean
by the vultures in crisp clean suits & big fat
blood
spattered
ties
infesting the six o’clock news details at eleven
the newsman tells me
I don’t have a job because I don’t want to work
tells me
minimum wage is enough to live on
tells me
I should have thought of that before
when I was in high school
smoking pot &
filling notebooks w/dreams
instead of getting good grades
when I was living a life
instead of planning one
I want to work
you won’t let me
I want to learn
you won’t teach me
we are the greatest threat to democracy & free enterprise
we are The Disposable Generation
we don’t matter
except to the worms
the mice
where would the worms
the mice
be w/out us.
We’re important after all.
One day we will all march down Main Street on parade day
I will be first in
line & proud to be
holding our battered flag snug between busted up knees
dressed in uniform ragged
saluting w/hand missing
fingers
crying out
I am an American too!
I am Alive too!
I want a Life too!
Poverty is not a crime!
But is a prison!
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Joe Musso lives in NJ, in a place of big sky and water. He has a handful of books out there. Check them out if so inclined.