Eavesdropping on an Anarchist’s Monologue at the Post Office
Here you are,
fumbling for change in your early 60’s,
to get the fucking technology to work
Shouldn’t you be in Orlando with a beer gut?
(Copy machine fails to cooperate)
Corporate America, pssh!
I’m minding my own business at the kiosk,
listening to the Republicans taking over shit for the next 30 years.
Are you an anarchist, sir?
Or have you been left behind?
Fucking Americans, wake up!
Mid. Term. Elections. Are. The. Most. Important.
I do want to vote,
will you, honestly, dear sir?
(He’s still fumbling around with an early 00’s copy machine)
I know the woman mailing Christmas
heard your fucking shit and goddamn Democrats.
and I’m not even trying to, sir.
Will you throw your torch into the pyre
or is that asking too much?
You’ve had your whole life to tear the system down,
why is the baton covered in dirt?
I wish I could just mind my own business
and get your fucking papers in check.
Maybe a coffee.
Maybe a Guy Fawkes mask.
Because your curmudgeon self
makes me think the deck is fixed
and you’re exactly where they wanted
you all along.
[Josh Dale holds a BA in English from Temple University and has been previously published in 48th Street Press, April Gloaming Publishing, Black Elephant, Huffington Post, The Scarlet Leaf Review, Your One Phone Call, and others. If he’s not petting his rescue Bengal, Daisy, he is perfecting his stir-fry recipe, hunched over in the dark like an alchemist. He is the founder and current editor-in-chief of Thirty West Publishing House and Tilde: A Literary Journal. He calls Norristown, PA his second home.]
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