During rush hour the hippies
stand on the freeway overpasses
holding their anti-war signs
as they wave at the cars crawling
under their uptown streets.
Uptown-where the residents sit in
dingy corners of run-down coffee shops
spewing their hard-nosed, soft opinions.
They're all so open-minded, and they've got
the eclectic, mismatched clothes,
the body piercings,
and the tattoos to prove it.
Now I'm not saying I'm
anti-anti-war or anti-war.
I just wonder about people who
take a stance so far from the middle,
people who have all the answers
as they protest a system that lets them protest.
I wonder why they feel the need
to slow me down at five o'clock.
At 10:00 pm I turn on AM radio-
not because I like what they say,
but because the political pontificators put
me to sleep most nights.
I picture the man behind the microphone
with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his elbows,
as he fishes fistfuls of newspaper articles
from his briefcase.
"We must obliterate the enemy!"
"We don't need France!"
He yells his pro-war cry to the regular folks
who are driving in cars or snug in their homes.
Now I'm not saying I'm
anti-pro-war or pro-war.
I just wonder about people who
take a stance so far from the middle,
people who have all the answers
as they protest a world that protests them.
I wonder why they feel the need
to keep me up at ten o'clock.
kmb 03/03
