Monday, October 28, 2019


molotov party

there’s a cold hap and harry's
between my legs
5 more hung on ring
on the seat next to me

driving Nashville's safest neighborhood
in the dark, big houses
sprawl gated, ghostly backlit
the ghost of andrew jackson's leg on display

it’s nice the horse girls
and money men did well with
their hatchets, it’s nice
the crime rate is low
money buys secrecy

cameras monitor beyond walls
I wait for police lights
sure no one who makes
under twenty k is allowed
in this neighborhood after dark

crickets so loud
you won't hear the fucking guillotine
so what would stop me
from buying every six-dollar bottle
of vodka from the package shop
with a stop at kroger for a box of rags
start a bring my own molotov party

the proper arc or with good enough aim
I’ll make six bills singe inconceivable million
dollar houses to ash

roadside piss, splash a wall
tag a camera with an empty
sirens crow in the distance
three beers down
flames off in the distance
belle meade is burning
not sure it wasn’t me

let it burn, let those minie balls
sing from their column beds
all the landmarks of those that owned
still feel you can own a human
should be smashed, burned
their history rewritten revealing
this class as parasites

we were to make democracy
every generation in our image
we failed, people are not free
the time is right to start again

spark the next cocktail
it has to start, who cares where it ends
tonight it burns, tomorrow it burns
the next french revolution starts in nashville

--Jason Baldinger

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