I am a communist. I spend my time traveling around America – because I want to. I ride a dirt bike. Not a conservative street bike your Daddy loved. Conservatism makes absolutely no sense after what I have seen, listened to, argued with, and smelled the smoke from animals on fire. I spit on your sacred democracy. Look what you have done. You have validated treason. You have validated crime. You have validated slices of pink haze that drops into lowlands and stays there for you to breathe. On a dirt bike, I can smell it all with the wind in my face. Food being cooked. Barbecue. People still hang laundry out on clotheslines, and I can smell that too like soap, clean sheets flapping when the coal car train screams by. America never had a recovering radical innocence. There was no time. Literacy in America. Day to day, we just kinda moved around job to job. The earth has changed. If Homo sapiens have created existential combat, the elimination of The Other, is chump change. What evidence is there that a mentally challenged individual can wag this dog’s tail effectively enough to define failure for success. Dorothy finds her witch. Is reality itself constructed by the Heritage Foundation that would proclaim there is no place like home. Until there is. A razor blade slashed big holes in the safety net that plays a zero some game. Where the sum of each outcome is always a vacuum. Oh, save us from Welfare. Oh, save us from an aristocracy that would have us pray. Communism works.