A POEM - THE BOSS AND THE POLITICS

THE BOSS AND THE POLITICS
The ten hour days
sun burning my flesh
paint in my eyes with aching back.
Those days I didn’t enjoy.
But neither did I enjoy
the rides home from the job site with the boss.
He was one of those people
who liked to tell you his opinion about things,
despite you never having asked.
He’d spout off about the problem
of illegal immigration,
then move onto
the left-of-liberal-secret-commie-black
supremacist group
that was trying to gain control of
America.
I just stared out the window,
sometimes peeling paint from my skin.
I’d been to over forty countries
and not one of them bothered me.
Governments often pissed me off
but I felt small enough to go unnoticed,
or at least slide around their laws.
Everything to me was on a more local level,
a more personal basis.
If nobody was in my face,
fucking me around or anybody I cared for,
to hell with the rest of it.
I had more important things to consider,
like what I was gonna eat for dinner.