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Mark Jarman
reads
Wailers
in Real Audio format.
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Nobody's home and the day is long.
The Protective Service is bored.
To kill the time it sings a song,
Like a house cat being gored.
Its air throbs through the neighborhood
And wakes the slumbering Beemers,
Lincolns, Infinitis. From under each hood,
A voice joins the chorus of screamers.
And nobody's home to stop the wailing,
Nobody's home to care,
Except the self-employed and ailing,
Pulling out their hair.
Where is it coming from, the shrill,
Incessant call to alarm
That no one answers or dares to kill,
Like a yellow jacket swarm?
Like a thicket the gated community
Harbors a hidden thorn
And sleeps the sleep of immunity,
Head pressed to the horn.
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