Occupiers

jimmy calls me up on
his cell phone
late one night.
i haven't heard from
him in awhile. the last
time we spoke he
was selling hyundais
down on route one
and making a bundle.
hey, he says, what up?
not much, i tell him.
what are you doing?
still selling cars?
pffft. he says, no
way. i'm tired of the
game. tired
of the corporate man
keeping me down.
i only made
ninety thousand last
year. i can't live
off of that. you know
how much a dry martini
is these days? so what
are you doing? i asked
him. i'm down at
mcpherson square.
i'm an occupier. you
should come on down.
we're having a blast
chanting, singing,
waving our signs
around and what not.
it's cold as hell
out here, but
there's some pretty
hot babes in the pup
tent next to mine.
i think they used
to be flight attendants,
or nurses. not sure.
but they are
smoking hot. i went
over to their tent
the other night to
borrow some butter
for the popcorn i was
popping on my hibatchi
and ended up staying
half the night.
they had a chilled
bottle of pinot noir
they brought from their
wine cellar in middleburg.
sounds great. let
me take a shower
and put on some clean
clothes. no man, no
don't do that. in fact
go out into the front
yard and roll around
in the mud so that
you look like one
of us. don't brush
your teeth either.
it wouldn't hurt
to take a bite
off a red onion.
but hey, bring an extra
blanket or two, and
maybe pick up some
finger foods. a wedge
of roquefort cheese
and some waterford
crackers would
be nice. something
to gnosh on while
we go visit the girls
and talk strategy
on how to bring
the system down.
okay, okay, i tell him.
anything else?
nothing i can think of.
oh wait, bring some
flea powder, i've
been itching like crazy
this whole week. oh,
and a black magic
marker. the ink on
my sign ran all over
the place when it
rained the other day.