A Poem For "Criminals

The End Days

Hello.
Nice to meet you.
You look kind of familiar,
like someone I knew when I lived
above that dry cleaners in Cincinnati.
Yeah, I know the toxic fumes will probably
give me cancer some day.
Yeah, I know people are always telling me
I look just like someone they know, too.
Maybe I remind you of your sister’s best friend?
No? Maybe it’s that guy your rode the ferry with
last summer when you went on vacation
to that island everyone was always saying was the
best place to get drunk in the northeast.
Yeah, those days are over for me, too.
The only good thing I can say about the blackouts
is thank God the memories are blurry.
Maybe I’m that person who freaked you out so bad
when you looked in the mirror on LSD.
I bet you’ve wondered if you’re possessed ever since, right?
Maybe I remind you of the priest your mother called
to exorcise your demons.
The one who took you behind the altar--
don’t worry you don’t have to confess anything to me.
We both know there’s an infinite supply of demons
making the rounds, we may as well make friends with the bastards
because they’re not going away.
Yes, I’m the bastard child of a pirate and a barmaid.
He bent her over the bar one night and I popped out
nine months later.
My mom tells me there’s no shame in being a bastard,
not in this day and age.
In this day and age I’m a pregnant fourteen year old
from the Dominican Republic who lives in South Providence.
South is the direction of the innocent child on the Medicine Wheel.
Providence is the power conceived by God to guide human destiny.
That’s right, destiny is coming our way.
Don’t listen to the President of the United States or the priests.
Hell is a sound bite.
The day the Twin Towers fell waves which had been galloping
toward our island for centuries struck the southwest point.
What a relief.
I know I sound callous and cold-blooded.
Believe me, I weep.
I am another yourself, says the Mayan code of honor.
In a way, the terrorists are right,
we do have one face,
except they don’t have another.
They look just like you and me.
Looks are always being accused of deceiving.
I’m here to say you’re not fooling anybody.
That was me you saw chopping down that mighty
redwood tree.
Everything is hard to believe.
Nobody loved that tree more than me.
You probably despise me.
Some redneck who doesn’t know the world needs to be saved.
Let me tell you, it ain’t easy feeding a family these days.
So whatta you want to do about it?
Throw stones?
Or plant seeds?