Clattery MacHinery on Poetry

December 16, 2016

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Treason

It’s beginning to look a lot like treason
Everywhere you go;
Consider the CIA views on election day;
The e-mail hacks were Russian we now know.
It’s beginning to look a lot like treason;
Trump owes Russia more
Than he pays on his income tax, the robbers from Goldman Sachs
At the White House door.

He called upon Vlad to do something quite bad
For his own political gain;
Scandals to spike for Donald and Mike
At the expense of Clinton and Kaine;
The President and Congress waiting for a judgment day.

It’s beginning to look a lot like treason
Everywhere you go;
There’s a Benedict Arnold air, with G-People out to snare,
Conspirators whose motives go too low.
It’s beginning to look a lot like treason;
Soon arrests will start,
And the thing that will make them sing are the deals the Feds will bring
That show Trump’s part!

~~

May 16, 2014

Older White Guys Bonding

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Older White Guys Bonding

I took a short walk about an hour ago, to get some stamps and lottery tickets.

Just before reaching the first store, I run into an older white guy. We both say Hi. He does a double take and says, “Hey, do you have a brother who lives in Lowell?” I say, “No, my brother lives in Pelham.” He says, “Oh, because you look just like this guy Roger, don’t know what his last name is.” I tell him my name. He replies “I’m John M—-” and we shake hands.

In the very next breath he asks what I think of black people, saying that his wife doesn’t like the Haitians because they use the system for money, while we have to go out to work. I say that white people do the same thing. He says not as much as black people. I say, “Oh sure, and so do the Cambodians, the Hispanics . . .” He interrupts me and says, “Oh, the Cambodians. They’re the worst.” I say no, they’re not.

John closes our conversation saying that sometimes when he meets people who do not agree with him, it makes him feel stupid. I tell him that it is nice to meet him, and I’ll see him around. He says goodbye in a friendly way.

I go across the street and buy stamps at the local supermarket. I cross the next street over, and get lottery tickets at the packy. I start my walk back home, and run into John again, sitting on the wall at the same corner. I ask if he is waiting for the bus. He says yes. I ask him where he is going.

He tells me where, and says that he lost two homes to predatory loans, but that he got a good lawyer who got him into this nice place for housing. I ask how much he pays for rent. He says $400-something. I ask who pays the rest? He hesitates. Then says the state has an elderly housing program.

All along, I had been wondering if he had seen me walking in the neighborhood with my “black” girlfriend. He asks my age, and then tells me to see Susan-something, if I want to get an apartment there, that to mention his name, and say that I have known him for 20 years—that sometimes we have to lie.

I say “Thanks anyway,” and that I’ll see him around. We smile and part ways.
   

May 12, 2014, 1:00pm

   

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