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.