mango lassi

before I had even the scantest of morning alertness
the mango lassi arrived at the bedside table.

this is what I call care,
for the courage to be simply coupled in our culture
is occasionally mistaken for something of a
political protest or a rebellion.

I don’t miss, mr. phelps, mr. harper, mr. hatred,
the long nights alone in a vapid downtown location,
the only body heat keeping the frostbite in check
being my own (and at that, I have poor circulation)

I don’t miss, mr. god knows all, mr. don’t feel it, mr. but it’s unnatural
the self-loathing and repression of the simplest of ideas
the purest of emotional pulls towards the light:
do tidal waves wish for anything but simple gravity?

there are two things that have changed for me.
my hatred for intolerance has grown into an internal rage,
one which smolders and steeps the vents of my pores
and I must keep in check through assorted natural remedies.

the other is the pure selfish delight I gather from now.
the present no longer longs for the future to envelop me in custody
the yearning to simply be the entity the universe assembled
on june 11 1982 is now merely a historical detail.

before I had even the scantest idea of what was happening
I fell in love.

april 1 2011 11:11 am