spring succeeds chill air
old lindens leaf out and bloom
birdcall and tisane

once under a rainy day
we met, huddling beneath the cover
of a mushroom to keep dry,
now the sun has long since chased the clouds away,
yet here we stay,
together: i still love her,
and shall until the fungus of our love
is dry

the warm west wind blows
frost-bitten spring leaves away
white clouds replace grey

childhood ends not with a celebration
but by the sound of an alarm clock,
with clothes laid out for you
not by your mother on your bed but on the sidewalk
by the governor / engines idling at red lights,
they never change, we never doubt,
we've been dying here for years,
isn't it strange that nobody ever gets out?
we remain in obedient slow pursuit,
we zombies of the morning commute,
we wageheads, we employable undead,
we were people once,
we listened to what the grown-ups said

we are made of railroads
atoms upon tracks
traveling predetermined routes
arriving at predictable acts
we are machines of computation
numbers within mass
solving existential equations
about leaping off the overpass

of course it's dense;
poetry is self-defence
against common sense.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” someone asks
“Their name’s Bea,” I reply
“I support that,” they hesitate
“You are so brave.” they add

I never saw their lips as a political statement
Nor did I think holding hands in the front seat
while a friend is puking by the side of the road
Was some kind of revolution

How romantic is it
That our story will be etched
Not in some Neruda poetry book
But a professor’s first textbook
Or a college student’s 2 am essay

When I said I was in love
You thought it meant I was hungry
Not for touch or for pleasure
But for justice and freedom
I didn’t know that
When I run my fingers down her neck
It would be tied to a long Twitter thread

I never saw my love as a battleground
A metaphysical exploration of sexuality
What’s Marxist about the way their eyes
disappear when they smile?
What’s so intersectional about
Our entanglement at the back seat
Or our hands holding in front

I never thought I would be so brave
At my most fragile state
So political
In my most dumbstruck ways
So woke
When I’m asleep in her embrace