Monday, August 4, 2014

poem of the day 08.04.14

the car alarm

a late model
silver piece of conspicuous consumption
with a sunroof
parked in front of my kitchen window

and for three days now its alarm
has been going off
at intermittent moments
breaking the continuity of thought
and life with its blaring wonk

i look outside like a man about to commit murder
and see the car’s warning lights
flashing like some beacon of hell

when the noise stops it’s as if
chest pains or bad gas has passed

it’s the closest that i’ll come to god

you can hear the whole neighborhood yelling
at this car alarm
kids crying, dogs barking
the old decrying the fall of their civilization

yet no one comes out to fix it
no buff asshole in reflector shades holding a clicker
no dim blonde giggling to her gal pals
and dangling a set of keys

they are how i picture this car’s owner to look

some overly tan and privileged trust fund baby slumming here
one who revels in keeping a neighborhood at his mercy

someone who loves summer

when the alarm goes off again
i think about all that i’d like to do to that car

smash its windows
slash its tires
key both sides of it or pelt it with eggs
leave a nasty note that says
fix your car, asshole

but i do nothing for there is nothing to do

no one else does a thing
because we are all prisoners here

we know that these kinds of people have won the war
the last great american revolution

so i close the window
put on the fans and blast the radio

i sit on the couch and drink cheap wine
try to think about hot legs or autumn in europe

as the car alarm goes
ad nauseam

under the din of life and death
in rotten brooklyn.

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