A Night Spent With A Political Man

I lay down with him in a bed of smoke
Lipstick stains on the rims of his glasses
From where he brushed up against my mouth
And let words of power spill from his

He’s a smooth man
Swaggy and knowin’ of it
He never really left the streets
Just found himself a bigger purpose in them
I let him settle in it, fit himself comfortable in his britches
While he tells me about all his dreams for the block

And I listen
Sweetly, smiling
Pursing my lips and waiting
As this man bigger than men
Sets his dreams but only so far

I find it most interesting / the limitations of his radicalness

Somehow we
The people for whom he so adamantly dreams of freedom
Are still to blame
Still to fault
Still to fix what was not ours to inherit in the first place

I don’t stop him, though

I enjoy the light in his eyes
The weight of him pressed against me
The sensation of his words reverberating through my bones
I pick up on pieces of his plans that need more

More than any cishet man can ever give
I let him rest his head on my bosom,
Almost comfortable in this space we’ve created
Where ideas foster, dreams are imagined
Futures brilliantly displayed on bodies in motion
And tears
In succinct sayings / “The ballot or the bullet”
Manly manifestos, iterations of fighters past
Reborn before my eyes
And yet
Oh, so alluring

I struggle not to fall between the cracks of his charisma
The leader we want, but do not need
I pick up on pieces of his plans
That forget me
The invisible chains created such that willpower alone is not enough to break them

What dollar will I spend here, if I have none?
What community will I stay in if its water is leaden, its streets unpaved, schools underfunded
Homes destroyed and rebuilt with no space for us?

We are ancestors before we transition
Experiencing life and death at once
In this moment and all others

To find joy is to fight

But not for him

We cannot sit
We do not rest
Music is trivial
And liberation will be a land of stoicism and anger

Frustrations with nowhere to travel
So we might reach for freedom and be half dead at the summit

I lay down with him in a bed of smoke
Listening to his dreams
Almost comfortable

As a fire only I seem to see
Rages around us

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