"> Pride


The riot is shot through
with confetti. Bullhorns warn
of sunstroke & promote
politicians executing
well rehearsed dance-offs.

I would like to let
go of the heat inside
myself, I think as I
trade flirts in line
for the Starbucks
bathroom with a
slender swim champ.

If I can only hold a man
in my mouth in a Starbucks
bathroom, so be it. If the
whole city must piss in the supply
closet, so be it.

Out front Port Authority the hot
dog man kisses at me
with the tenderness of the water
boiling his sausage in the sun.
He must smell in me what
his father smelled in his son.

Drenching Manhattan; we riot for pride
in our credit scores & having
escaped the country we author.
The streets throb with the Bank
of America’s balloons. They float
higher into the cloud of rainbow

Between the batons & the face paint
I can smell the gunpowder of
an unfettered state. The skyscraper glass
glitters out of sight above our heads.

A police helicopter watches over
us with the concern of a friend.
Please be advised: the storm
shellacking the continent is bad
content. The far off
thunder punctuates
our time of wild opulence.

I don’t have a politic.
I'm just a child in
a mortgage application
asking to be free. I have been
claimed by the pharmaceutical
money laundering operation
again. They told me how much
I’m worth. I stood in ovation.

The nation stands at attention
deficit. We have petitioned it for a few
more minutes before closing time. It has
obliged in compensated shots. Cops
crowd the exits. Standing between us
& the way out, nothing but cops.