EMPATHY FOR MICHAEL

there are fires

thousands of miles
from here, and
crowds
who have run wild
in the
angry streets.
there are
upturned cars,
shattered glass,
ordinary hands
lifting up staffs
against The Machine.
What do I know
of this hatred
that makes
average men
turn to the staff
and the stone?
Nothing. But if
I ask myself
tonight to feel
for them
to feel LIKE them
(even for a moment)
then maybe
there'll be one
less fire
started,
one
less broken 
window, one
less boy down
in the street.