I Wanted to Write Something Nicer

Maybe I'm getting sick,
the vicarious hopelessness of the man
and the conclusion that we came to,
the fracked fields and the poison water
injected back into the ground -
twice, in different towns, I heard women
say "oil man" today with what sounded
to me like desire, you can't help the economics
of desire, it's just nature, or programming, or fuck it,
and I can't help wanting to set fire to it all.
Leaving the restaurant where I was caught
muttering to myself more than once, I interrupted
a scavenging stray cat making his rounds,
we were going in the same direction so I threw
a bacon cheddar summer sausage out
the window of the van, and he
probably felt assaulted