You wake up
and you’re helpless
car lock peeled
like a coffin
pried open by
some random graverobber
under the hazy watch
of midnight’s lazy eye
cd player ripped
out of socket
stolen with
a life’s savings
worth of compact discs
cops arrive
tell you what you already know
yeah...
they’ll keep
an eye out
violation is a horrible feeling
every person is
a suspect
the old guy with
the queer limp
who walks his dog
every night
maybe the girl
burnt out on
crack-cocaine
attempting to raise
her 3-year old daughter
with no support
but that of
welfare
and of course
there are the
metal boxes
edging up
and down
the street
booming their
thunderous stereo systems
which cost more
than the car
itself
what’s a person
to do
wait for the insurance
company to make
its move
call mom
for a comforting hug
take this
loaded helplessness
and put a
bullet in
the head
of every last
mother fucking
suspect
watch their
bodies paint
the streets
a fine chalk-
outline white
something has got
to give
because
insurance companies
take too long
mom’s 3000 miles away
and
this anger
is itching
a trigger
that has no
safety.