Just when did I forget I kick ass?

It must have been when the bubble gum salesman
called me a queer. His own country is a failed state,
his family’s enslaved, or gassed, or butchered otherwise.
And he wears a silver dress. A tabac! Spinoza defines
hatred as a sorrow given over to an external cause.
A dervish, him! The lash—one hundred of them,
one hundred and then two, then a peculiar racism
to overtake the old. What feeble politics aghast!
To sell beer, the Islamist pamphleteer must
gather all his courage and demote it to the dust:
queer, queer—how similar our slots in the bottoms
of this country.

Advertisements

~ by Jeremy on July 6, 2013.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: