FIRE IN THE HOLE

I jostle over the heaving
cracks in the sidewalk
wondering why people trash
their own neighborhood,
spying the first seven
foot man I've seen in ages,
the jackhammers, oddly
enough, music to my ears
as an autumnal wind blows cool
on my freshly shaven face.
The kids playing hookie are
playing at killing terrorists,
but from the sound of it,
the terrorists are winning.
I run myself ragged, real-
izing the raw and the real.