The day takes on some tediousness. Two guys are blowing leaves
Off of the rich guy nextdoor's patio, which he is never home to use.
The drone of their blowers irritates blandly, the way that news
Accounts that I read observe without the slightest shock
The rise of the old-school garrison state, a penchant for searching
For people to kill, peasants in dinghies, with million-buck missiles,
Flies with cannons, because it demonstrates the core of cruelty
Within an odious regime. It's not enough to starve the poor,
To pauperize the middle class. There isn't much to see in that.
Goons in the cities and screaming jets provide the sorts of spectacles
Which please the sadist in the White House, though he's rarely home.