Remember
Back in the day
When those parties
In Venice
That say would have 25 people or so
Walking through?

Now they were
Too big
Over-packed with
50-200?
With frat boy vibes?

Dana Rick and I
Arrived at one
And I thought a
At the sliding glass door
Oh God
And quickly escaped to the kitchen
Cutting through the living room
Where there was the make shift bar
Nothing much in the
Fridge

Anyway
I made my drinks
And turned around
To cross back
And somehow Dana was there
In front of me

She raised her hands
And wiggled through the bodies

While I
Said
NO
I will dance
When I feel like it
I choose

So I began to follow
And every elbow knees hip and arm
Reached out to touch me
Knocking all the contents out of
my little plastic cups

And though
I got to the other side
Contemplatively
Looking back
Empty

The three of us
Went to stand on the side of the house
Safe
By the water meter
And I laid down my cups
Laughing

So the moral of this story
Although I think it’s obvious
Is to
Go
With
The
Flow

Venice parties
You know those
200 in a space made for 50?
A monster that
You had to
Protect yourself from?

Three of us
In the living room and I got
To the Kitchen. For safety.

Serving adequate, and me
on my way back
Drinks in each hand
Bodies through Dana leading
Her arms above her head
bouncing she won’t spill a drop
The other hands follow
again, me with
stubborn arms
refusing
thus liquid contents emptied and
Sticky
the floor underfoot
Splashed

Outside
The water meter stood laughing
told us about the flow and to go with it

Resist
to the one who builds a small house
and says: well I am here.
Resist the one who came home again
and says: Glory be to God.
Resist
on the Persian carpet of apartment buildings
to the short man in the office
in the company import - export
in public education
in the tax
to me still telling you.

Resist
to the one who greets from the podium for hours
endless parades
to this barren lady who shares
forms of saints Lebanon and myrrh
to me still telling you.

Resist all those who are called great again
to the President of the Court of Appeal resist
in music the drums and percussion
at all the talking conferences
counselors drink coffee
to all who write speeches about the time
next to the winter heater
in flattery the wishes in so many bows
from scribes and cowards for their wise leader.

Resist the services of foreigners
and passports
in the terrible flags of the states and diplomacy
in ammunition factories
to those who say nice words lyricism
in thurias
in sweet songs with lamentations
to the spectators
in the wind
to all the indifferent and the wise
to others who make your friend
as well as to me, to me still telling you
resist.
Then we can confidently move on to
Freedom.

How am i supposed to say
what i want is not attention
it's reassurance

what i want is not sympathy
it's support

how am i supposed to say
i am battling..
with myself.

Be the feeling
of an answer

not
the urgency
of a question