A Letter to Date

Wed, 03/20/2019 - 00:42 -- Pguerra

America, I thought the human war had ended.

but your still being filled with day to day-publications and hatred 

i thought you had your atom bomb all figured out 

i thought the race had been won

but still you must repeat and reverse the clock 

why?

got any more skin to peel?

America why are you raising the bill and closing the doors?

I scroll through the sadness that is your people and I find nothing—

care to elaborate?

why have you erased us?

What ever happened to that equality crap

best two seconds you ever had.

I want to care about you friend.

I want to shout from the rooftops like everyone else and argue that our flag is for everyone

but instead I sit and I observe and you do the same.

Now more stripes are being added

you say your all in but yet again i still see you lean back on your well crafted recliner and wink.

 

I want you to know I’m not the happiest with you right now.

I yearn for the days when brothers and sisters walked along the same path with innocence.

When the horizon was enough for us all and the thrill of adventure still took part.

Oh’ how how I wish Monterey was still filled with The Mama’s and the Papa’s.

How lifting a finger for the mile was as easy a reuniting with a loved one.

but sadly friend you’ve ended all that with a quick snap of your finger and click of the clock.

The years have passed—

The clothing has stretched and shrunk like an overused elastic band.

yes the times are still a changing.

but not with the same current and pace we all hoped it would.

You no longer look up and see kites and frisbees friend.

but you do hear the pitter patter of the keys going back and forth across the country.

The lawnmowers and boomboxes are no more.

The typical scenario has vanished along with the Sunday dinners and scratchy records.

I still own some though

I like to see the big vinyl disk along your surface friend—

being flipped side 1, side 2.

 

Where is the joy of finding strangers in the night friend?

You have ridden us of them and instead replaced them with false identity’s—

ungodly intentions.

God I want a soda pop.

but not that organic shit you sell us for an entire paycheck—

but the one with the foam spilling off the sides touching our hands.

Our hands friend— 

our hands have held you and broke you and rebuilt you all in the same day.

Our hands closed tight around rage, love and unpublished contracts.

I see that everyday along with the masses  

the masses running—

running from unrequited lovers

from words they don't understand—or maybe do?

They discover and rediscover your past relationships who are now in heavy waters.

I see them run to normality and the coming of starkness

—alongside you.

I also sneak a peaks at you friend—well once in a blue moon actually.

I feel you shifting sides to make room for the new, even though eventually you’ll turn the other cheek.

I hear you speak of truths and freedom—

of the sexes and where they deserve to be 

of how you and I are one.

That won’t end well. 

So friend don't deceive, don't forge, don't disguise be brutally frank if you must

it’s what we all want.

I walk hand in hand with you friend but while my fingers are open and filled yours are not—

there hidden behind your back crossed and twisted at the seams alongside your flag.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My country

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