Dogpatch Greys

 

Dogpatch Greys

by

Jon Presco

 

It’s a known fact

the Greys parked their saucers atop

the Potrero Power-stack

and recharged their engines.

Children who grew up by the bay

saw them all the time!

The night guards didn’t want to mess with them

nor be called “crazy”.

 

I just got a response from a historian

who pretended she did not know what I am talking about.

She sent me to the library

as faraway from Site 9 as they could.

 

Above is the same old trick they use

to render us worker-slaves.

I went to another of their civic “brainstorming” sessions,

and they took everyone in the room, but two.

Folks that go to see ‘The Planners’

are lonely and unemployed.

They are not missed.

They are plum tuckered out after a month of hard labor

they have no memory of.

 

When I took a pic at this Gathering Place,

the woman at the door asked if I was the press.

“I cover the waterfront!”

“She laughed!

“Who sang that great song?”

They say they want your history so they can preserve it.

They want to pickle you

and take your frozen soul away

And here he come

the black man with a

electric guitar

to play to the sound

of seagulls

and the water lapping up

against the broken

concrete

blocks

 

 

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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