tired of crazy people in the road

as i

drive home from work,

tired.

exhausted, a few bucks in

in my pocket

from a long

nine hours

of hard labor,

i begin to wonder

why other people aren't

working.

why are they always

in the street

protesting.

don't they have jobs, families,

a real life.

they look fat and well

clothed.

they don't look poor

all bundled up

in colorful clothes.

how do they do it?

day after day, standing

out in the cold,

screaming

for the world to change.

i take

the long way around them

to at last get home.

i'm tired

so tired of crazy people

in the road.