Making America Great Again
Making America Great Again: 1st floor, City Lights Bookstore, San Francisco
looking out onto Jack Kerouac Alley I see a small hooded monk
working at the cans hand braced against the wall she holds up
the too-big world around her she pulls one stamps this tube
until it flattens the weight of her the gravity-freighted wrack of her
rag-clad frame against all that manufactured resistance until
it becomes the bullet fired into the wall the automobile in the
head-on wreck the verifiable fact crashing into willful ignorance
and each one she is done with she carefully stows in a black plastic
sack she already has three of these filled and tied off a mornings
work leaning and coughing she wipes off her mouth with the back
of a hand straightens her three coats across her hanger shoulders
hitches her two pairs of raggedy hole-in-the-ass trousers shuffles in
boots that dont match and dont lace and dont fit and begins again
cerise hood raised sun anxious on her back relentless as debt
light careers down Columbus it skids and crashes the corner
off the windows of the Vesuvio blank and unconcerned with the daily
traversings and workgoings and homecomings of the world all that
traffic and hustling through the shroud-cold Scooby-Doo frets
that roll like depression across this city that is so un-American
in its American-ness it is everything they dreamed of those
dreamers it is all the freedom and love and the freedom to love
whoever it is you want to love it welcomes ...
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