In my cheap room, lit by a TV screen,
after I climb five flights, each night,
up a stairway to nowhere, I sit and
stare at Hollywood daydreams, which
feature movie queens, heros and villans,
happy endings. Each one showing, that
in the USA, the bad guys lose, truth wills
out, the righteous win — which keeps us
going. It’s how we survive these hard
times, as we sip our beers and eat our
popcorn in a world that’s broken.
Even in this dead town where misery
abounds, and jobs can’t be found, and
what was up crashed down, like so many
Humpty Dumptys who can’t be put back
together again, not even by our constitution,
nor our institutions, or our business leaders,
rabbis, priests and preachers, nor our
politicians, who all have other eggs to break
and fry, as they scramble those happy
endings for their busy lives. Which have
nothing to do with our sorry stories, because
they don’t have to live them. They don’t
even have to watch them. They can select
another station. They inhabit another nation.
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