we’ll all make it?
black lesbians kiss
on the N train platform
while i just spent eight hours
having my ass handed to me
lowliest of the lowly public servants
it’s my fault for everything in the hoi polloi’s eyes
i can’t bear the sight of people
at the end of this sixth work day
can’t bear them when the work week starts
still i can’t help but watch these women
tongue wrestling in the sunshine
as if they’re the only ones really alive out here
maybe they are
i know i feel dead
and the rest of the people standing here
with their heads buried in their phones
well, they aren’t making the case for humanity either
i’d like to think we’ll all make it
the black lesbians in love
the people waiting on the N train
squandering these little lives we’ve been given
make it into something we can survive with
but one too many fall through the cracks
you can see them walking in a daze along the avenues
standing in those ministry pantry lines
suffering the word of god for a loaf of bread
hustling with change cups
singing old songs for a dime
on nearly every corner in this city
people with no hope sit covered in cardboard mansions
begging for money and beer and dignity
gone
even my lovers waiting on the train have parted
and are arguing over some stupidity now
tongues sharp as blades
they cut away at the ties that bind
transgressions that form in the blink of an eye
screaming so loud
they’ve shaken the sun and stormed off
crushed that love like a bug
just as the lights of the train approach
and the rest of us walking dead
take the few steps forward toward the platform
ready to hang on the noose
of wherever oblivion will lead us next.
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