I'm seeing landscaping people work in between the rain today
It used to be they'd take the day off and spend it with their families
I'm back in writing mode
Remembering the old ways of our American lifestyle
I forgot how much more quiet it is in my head
While outside my city it's rumbling with fire and anger
From the generally humbled population
Of lesser-known writers and other artists
Labor trends in entertainment
We all work harder and longer
We made it - A Post Modern Economy
While the city is rumbling with fire and anger inside of it
This time it's because of the time
Politics season
So now the people all of a sudden have an opinion
I, of course, am happy with an appetite of a woman's loving embrace
As we enjoy our red wine at the end of the night
Watching from a distance
The yelling man on Santa Monica Boulevard wearing a bra
His insides burn with fire and anger inside of him
If only anyone could understand why he yells at the top of his lungs
In front of the 7-11
While Duran Duran plays on our speakers
"Hold on a minute", I say as I put on my slippers
I grab $10 in cash - the last freedom we have is paper
The yelling man sees me walking up in pajamas
The fire in his eyes cannot be controlled
He begins his salutations to me by screaming in my face
But unknown to him, I can take a punch
I stare him down until he calms like a puppy for just a moment
That's not why I'm here so I bring the cash out
"This is for you," as I wave the money in his face
Without even a blink of his eye, he grabs it
And runs off into the depths of the neighborhood behind us
I go back home and enjoy the quiet of the night once more
At least until a new political season begins or ends.
