Who will rule the world?

Who will rule the world
just as far as the corner,
no cell phone blather
or fruitless lather
about who told who
to pick up Chinese Noodles
and Strohs for the game,
in my half block
they would all
just have to go hungry
and shut up
tight like drumheads
dumb as combs in a jar,


there will be no
air traffic
or curse words
or students deafened
with Ipods sulking
in the hoods appearing
like ghosts who won't
leave the planet
because there's still some
crack to be smoked,


no,


there is none of that
until you board the bus,
book under my arm,
boarding passed ready
and flashed semaphore style,
everyone in their seats

bright and shiny,
scrubbed with joy
with no sudsy film
dulling the glowing pink patina of ruthlessly
scoured flesh,
everyone speaks English,

everyone is a Democrat,
everyone loves Leslie West and Stravinsky
in the same precious sentence,
my ride, my bus, our world of similar things
all over again
supported by an army of you
who will seize any territory needed
to assure that there's
no sucky music
and no lack of white people
whose poems unravels
like coming attraction
you've seen
year after year
until the film stock
crumbles and the rhymes
becomes the dust
someone else’s footprints
land in, on their way
to take a hairy dump.