poem of the day 11.08.12

new york’s finest

new york’s finest
are screaming at each other on packed buses
jostling for space
throwing fists in gas lines
as bold bastards in two-ton hunks
of bailed-out metal slam their horns down
trying to run down pedestrians
on streets that have no lights

new york’s finest
are looting in decimated neighborhoods
going door to door
stealing from neighbors
on cold november nights that offer
no respite
from mother nature’s furry

new york’s finest
are searching for home insurance forms
amidst the rubble
of landscapes that have forever lost their form
as assholes of no value tell them
hey, at least you still have a job
while they pass out water bottles
from conglomerates itching for the eventual land grab

as the mayor
comes on the television
to tell us that he’s
turned on the lights in lower manhattan
has them burning bright enough
to keep the glow going
on the banner
of the nightly national news.