There tearing up streets again,

there building a new hotel.

The mayor is out killing kids,

to keep taxes down.



And me and my anger sits,

folding a paper bird,

letting the curtains turn

to beating wings.



Wish I had a socket set,

to dismantle this morning,

just one pair of clean socks,

and a photo of you.



When you get off work tonight,

meet me at the construction site,

and we'll right some notes to tape,

to the heavy machines.



Like