They open doors
to white supremacy
terrorists invited in
like it’s tea time
at the White House
while my love runs to
catch a train in New York
and has cops chase
follow
point loaded guns
at a man in service
and yell at him
to show ID
he sits between
death and life
at that moment
while resting on a bench
catching his breath
wondering why
he has to defend
running
to a loaded gun.
I can still hear the slow jam jingle of the ice cream truck gliding along past our yellow house like it was riding on rails
Pick a star, any star & I’ll reach straight up and grab it for you put it right inside your hot little hand we had
for Alex — a golden shovel, after Andrea Gibson The sky is still keening and so am I. What is too many tears? I let
It will probably happen when I’m at work, and he recruits a nosy, but caring friend with an AI-powered search engine. They’ll hush behind a
Your gaze becomes a stare, forcing your views without saying a word. Your eyes tell me a story. One where I fall to the wayside.
