The whole city is full of it – in the squares,
The coffee shops, the ‘blogs, the op-ed pieces
The emails, the news sites, the grocery stores
They are all busy arguing -

If you ask someone to give you change
He says the President is the Begotten One
If you inquire about the price of a croissant
You are told by way of reply that he is not

That the Supreme Court is greater, and that
The President is inferior; if you ask
“Is my cup of Blue Mountain ready?”
The barista answers that Congress is nothing

In the squares, the coffee shops, the ‘blogs,
The op-ed pieces – the whole city is full of it

That double crescent moon bite mark
That Thom made on my arm
To show me he was, "*****."

Those five purple fingerprints
That Riley left, to remind me
My pants? Gone last night.

That weird, mysterious oval
On the inside of my thigh.
...Was that Kelsey or Nyssa?

That tiny yellow mark that splotched my eyebrow
From when I ran into a telephone pole
—completely sober.
Tyler still mocks me about that.

That blood red under-eye
That made me realize
We all get hit.

That Texas-shaped purple-to-yellow transition
That screamed to me,
We all heal.