Labor Day

So I say to my friend at the day job “We are bored sometimes, and scented like realtors but if everyone’s equally disconsolate under labor’s gooey caul then nuance can be stitched more vividly to secrets lodged inside of everyone until it becomes your own country with highways that carry you silently past the jetty which, from their heavy drinking, the case managers come out to failing to be stable and badly attempting to sing” We’re pushing our barques past the mansions as I say this, near the dwellings of persons whose lives have no mooring outside the slow fact of our passing— huddled arrogantly under their air-conditioning they want us to be users moved by advertisers enticing the constituency to join them and sit there and weep But we’re too busy pulling toward centers where workers assemble. While time for them is a melody played at long intervals across condominiums we who are the power know our systems so much better now come to this hour outside it now give it new form on guitar