The Fear (L.A.)
The fear is running in the streets again
We live in a petri dish
A thin film of nutrient slime over the desert
False feasting above dead glass
Neat marks laid out for helicopters overhead
The fear is running in the streets again
The constant shuffle of rentals, freeways
Deportations, confiscations
Bacteria crowding to eat the culture
The listless hum of dying bees
The fear is running in the streets again
Each one an island, or so we hope
Each our own life’s twisted work
For common misery would be too common
Secretly feared by all to be the same
The fear is running in the streets again
Not of riot, car crash, or La Migra
Not of bullets or creeping smog
But running in the veins of each of us
That this might be all there is
Copyright 2004 Rich Puchalsky
E-mail: rpuchalsky@worldnet.att.net
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Last modified: August 19, 02004