poem of the day 01.15.15

one million

they gather

by the thousands in paris

in new york we march

and tell the cops these streets are ours

there is always some bloodshed

before these great gatherings

somebody has to die

for the world to come together

i’m not looking for utopia

but it seems that this momentum

collects and then it dissipates just as quickly

we move on

insular and uninvolved

until the next great tragedy

pulls us back into a sense of temporary cohesion

we blame politics and we blame religion

we blame skin color and money

they are all good targets

yet never provide us with an answer as to why

tonight i sit here with my work-a-day ass kicked

full of vodka with a jury summons in my hand

thinking judge not lest ye be judged

and that i can throw stones like they’re made of air

that as long as there are jobs and jury summons

i need never fear international terrorism

tonight i have one million solutions

for what ails the world

shoved deep in my back pocket

but i’m so selfish and low

i’m not sharing them with anyone.