It’s not working. There has to be a better way. Their building reminds me of a Soviet bomb shelter. The rich take care of the rich and the justices are rich. Ask anyone. It’s not that we know. But we know we know. You’re going to arrest me because I made chalk art on your sidewalk. What will the justices decide. I want a job like that. I could sit at a big desk and decide and decide and decide things. I would like to work in a Soviet bomb shelter. You do know the people in the building cannot hear the people who are not in the building. People are screaming at a building. The justices are in Vegas playing blackjack in their robes. I live in Appalachia. The drinks in Appalachia are not free. I can sit on my porch and look down at the valley. It’s summer so the clouds are rolling in pink. The pink is a murderous pollution released by power plants in the Ohio River Valley that serve industry in the beautiful, pristine states of Ohioland and beyond. I am writing this because the justices in their robes want my home to burn with acid rain. 42 tons of lead. 600,000 tons of carbon monoxide, 10,00 pounds of heavy metals, the kind you find after a nuclear explosion. The Supreme Court wants us barefoot and pregnant. Exactly what kind of power do we have. The Supreme Court has fed us to the wolves. Are we supposed to genuflect in the direction of a Soviet bomb shelter two or three times a day. Maybe in the break between our first job on the way to our second job. Two words: The Stench.