They are everywhere
The tragedy-sniffers are all
about
they get up in the morning
and begin to find things
wrong
and they fling themselves
into a rage about
it,
a rage that lasts until
bedtime,
where even there
they twist in their
insomnia,
not able to rid their
mind
of the petty obstacles
they have
encountered.
They feel set against,
it’s a plot.
And by being constantly
angry they feel that
they are constantly
right.
You see them in traffic
honking wildly
at the slightest
infraction,
cursing,
spewing their
invectives.
You feel them
in lines
at banks
at supermarkets
at movies,
they are pressing
at your back
walking on your
heels,
they are impatient to
a fury.
They are everywhere
and into
everything,
these violently
unhappy
souls.
Actually they are
frightened,
never wanting to be
wrong
they lash out
incessantly
it is a malady
an illness of
that
breed.
The first one
I saw like that
was my
father
and since then
I have seen a
thousand
fathers,
ten thousand
fathers
wasting their lives
in hatred,
tossing their lives
into the
cesspool
and
ranting
on.
Charles Bukowski
