I met Gregg for the first time as I walking down his street. Orchard Grove is a pretty little street in my town, and when I glanced sideways one day I see this dude polishing his Harley; rag in one hand and a can of beer in the other.
This poem was inspired by the just-concluded United Steelworkers convention.
Who Knows? Take the tea party ranters: instead of reasoning, they shout. Perhaps they're from outer space; they certainly are spaced out.
This unnamed verse, written in 1970, seems as if it could have been written yesterday in half a dozen nations - and in some U.S. states as well.