Saturday, August 26, 2017


best quesadilla in new york

i’m looking for something
i’m looking for three dollar drafts
and someone to talk about the government with
i’m looking for protest
i’m looking for america underneath those white sheets
i’m trying to wrap my head around this insanity
and looking behind my back
in case a van or a car comes tearing down this crowded street
i’m looking at the republican party
and shaking my damned head
as the president jacks off nazis with barbaric glee
i’m looking at half the sun in the sky
drinking tepid water out of a nation half-empty
and devoid of reason or logic
i’m staring hate in the eye and breaking statues back into rock
i’m looking for artisan ice cream in flavors i never dreamed
and ice cold beer locally brewed
so that i can feel like i’m making a change
i’m eating something called a moza-repa in the blistering sun
as i walk down 6th avenue thinking about endless war
and reparations and nuclear weapons and a sunset over the pacific ocean
i’m interested in doing some hardcore winning
i’m tired of coming out on the losing end all of the time
i’m looking for honesty and love and gender fluidity
craning my neck to hear the death rattle
of all of this toxic masculinity
i’m looking for something simple and real
like a sunflower reaching toward god
like a dark place to tuck into and hide
get myself out of this swampy heat
or like cruising down an avenue in a big, gas-guzzling car
black with tinted windows that’s almost a block long
bass playing the baddest motherfucking jam in the world
searching for the best quesadilla in new york
sizzling and gooey
washed down with a shot or two of tequila
underneath the ashes of american flags
with a cool breeze coming off the hudson river
as speed boats break waves in white crests
and the statue of liberty hangs out alone
in that blue horizon
just one moment this year
where she and the rest of us
aren’t always holding our breath.

--John Grochalski

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