Crimes

There's a fire on

Junk Island where

they send their garbage

is anybody listening?

After work we'll watch

the seagulls diving in

and out of the lashing towers of flame.

It twinkles like a pile

of rotting jewels left

to bake in the sun.

Is anybody listening?

We're just like those condom wrappers: used up torn up

thrown away.

And we're just like yesterday's headlines:

drifting, floating, towards the blaze.

If we rob the

liquor store we could

be in Tijuana by the crack of dawn.

If we rob the

mayor's mansion

we could pawn his modern art and make a fortune.

If we rob the lonely widow

we could steal her credit cards

and buy a cottage by the ocean.

If we swim to Junk Island we'll burn up like the seagulls

and the whiskey bottles.

We're scrapped valentines.

We're tangerine rinds.

We're crimes, crimes, crimes, crimes, crimes. (4x)

And the children

in the subway

eating apple cores.

Is anybody listening?

They're breathing paint out of plastic bags.

Their mumbled mouths say:

"Is anybody listening?"