Bad Kids and Mailboxes

I go looking for the kid

To make a point

Because he kicked over

My mailbox

And I find him jumped

Jumped

Behind the CVS

And now I gotta take care of him

Because he’s so upset

He can’t even breathe

Let alone give me the name

Of his mother

Or how I can--

I can’t even think about the mailbox

And I liked that mailbox

But this kid’s got a busted lip

And blood from either

A cut or something

On his right leg

And he may have been a punk

When I was driving around

Looking for him

So I could figure out a way

To make him pay

For busting up my mailbox

But now he’s just crying

And acting scared

And now I guess I have to go looking

For the other punks

That jumped him

So I can try and teach them

Some kind of lesson

And I really just want to know

When this is all going to be over

Because I do not have time

To be driving all over town

Trying to find bad kids

So I can show them how to act right

Because the last time I checked

There are parents

For that kind of thing

And while I do believe

In the whole ‘it takes a village’ mentality

I also believe

That you should have a clear understanding

Of what kind of kid it is you raised

So that if you think it’s possible

Your kid might go around after school

Trashing innocent mailboxes

Or jumping kids who trash mailboxes

Then you need to insist

That your kid

Gets on the bus

And goes home

And destroys your own property

Or jumps--

I don’t know

Who they’re going to jump at home

But the point is--

This really needs to be

A you kind of thing to deal with

The village can only do so much

I have a kid at home too

And that kid is home

Because if I let him

Wander the streets

He’d be doing way worse

Than kicking mailboxes

I know that

I know that

I’m his mother

I know these things

So I keep him home

Because I don’t want to force

The village

To deal with him

I just don’t understand

How anybody

Is supposed to get anything done

When as soon as you find a bad kid

They turn into a baby

Who got hurt

By another bad kid

And the more you find

The quick they turn back

Into little kids

Who are just the victims

Of some stupid adult

That let them have too much independence

Before they were ready for it

That’s what’s going on here

When this is all over

I’m going to have a busted mailbox

A son who’s flunking sixth grade

And a kid in my backseat

Crying and sniveling

With me trying to call his mother

Who, by the way, if I had to guess,

Probably makes more money than I do

Because that’s usually

How these things work out

It’s one of those days

Where, at the end of it,

As long as nobody’s dead

You’re going to have to label it a success

Not because you want to

But because if you want to go through

The rest of your life

Not wanting to kill everybody you meet

Then you have to find a bright side

And most of the time

The bright side is

Well at least nobody died

That’s it

Sometimes

That’s the best

You can do