Courtesy calls from your telemarketing sales rep.
Screaming I wish I could flow like milk, honey, or Mos Def.
I gotta bum sweatin' carefully
wanting to ask me something...
something...
nothing at all.
He said he knew me.
Knew me? Knew me from that (and I quote)
"Revolution...Revolution...Revolution Theatre place."
Revolution. He said he'd love a revolution here.
Joplin...dirty but home, in its condescending conservative patriotic bible thumping glory.
It's broken windowed businesses, its calmly corroded underated streets of hate and love and intolerance...home
This man, 46 or 47, said "you did it"
told me "Start a revolution...we need it"
Pondering over 2 week crusted DAV bum bought jeans he wore and his eyes
so tender and worn and dry and weak
from poverty.
His heart and beard trimmed by his mother on her anniversary.
Revolution needs fire, fire brings death and broken windows.
This is my home.
This is my home.
"Maybe someday." I said softly.
"We need more people like you." he said.
-Pride is the hardest tear to hold-
I give my word that my life is my poetry, and not copied from anywhere else.
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