The Sign on the Back of the RV Read: Disabled Veteran with PTSD So Play Nice!

Another day, another interview.

He tapped his ashes in a cup

And asked why. You’re no

Journalist, and you’re shit

At ethnography. What’s up?

You want to know what I think

Of politics? I’ll tell you what.

I think it’s all irrelevant except

The occasional kindness

Versus the constant greed.

He winked. You wanted an ism, right?

You wanted a creed. Nah. Not me.

What I see is little people

Using other little people

To screw over other little people.

We’re vicious shit, man. I think

People just aren’t comfortable

With who we really are, you know?

Say it’s some behemoth corporation.

Ooh, blame the big business company.

Blame the capitalist system, right?

Sure, but those are sneaky, greedy, little

People at the top—and down in most

Of the middle rows, too. You know?

He took a long drag and sighed.

Or say it’s the damn elites. Yeah, so?

Say it’s some corrupt king or president.

That, too. And all their suck-ups

And corrupt soft commanders,

Hands in the honey and giving orders.

And then they’re all about patriotism

Or the Revolution. The Motherland,

Whatever shit. But it’s still damn people.

And if the robots come and get us, see,

The computers, right? The machines?

It was people built them, wanted them

Like that. Just like that. People.

People screwing people. Ha. That’s

My politics. What? Oh, kindness. Kindness.

You know, it usually loses, but it’s there.

A little bit. Not when someone powerful

Acts all Robin Hood. When someone

Does something small to ease things,

Let someone go, you know, go be a citizen,

Own something, get a vote. I don’t know.

I don’t believe in any big arc of history

Going any which way. But you can see

Sometimes, when folks aren’t crucified.