one thing, one thing is that i want to touch the stars the way i would when my brother laid on top, pushing in, telling me he loved me, after my parents left, after they went on a road trip across americas until they reached the andes and sat with the mapuches watching stars that held their fortunes and stories before time...somehow they didn't see the story that was unfolding upstairs in our house, in the house that you are sitting in now and staring at me like i was winged, with a celestial light hanging over me, and so how could i not cry...
i watched her, watched the coast, watch the cards that sit before me on this table on a beach in astoria home for decades and not home, not a place i hold roots in...a place that reminds me that i am growing broker and broker cause brokers sold the building, the houses, the restaurants, the mamas and the papas, and most definitely the ammus and abbus...
watch the cards left by the hands of leprachauns dressed in indian shawls and chanting rumi poems with hands in chin-mudra...all mixed up...somehow...somehow...
all mixed up...so mixed up i walk between the chants, and slogans, between the lies told by media men and women who paint pictures over what they've done, over the homicides they've committed and then placed the blame on the natives...no clothes king...i see you...peace...prayers...
of course the natives are not just brown and black and red, and the takers, those stealing land, looting, raping, massacring are multi-racial, are trump-white, and kanye-black, and singh-brown, and cortez-latin, and sadat-olive...
i see you...nod your way regardless of your hate, of what you do...of the 100, 1000, 10,000 you kill on a daily...reported on the news like fish caught, like roaches exterminated...peace to the dead, to the suffering, to the laid out to die, and to those who take take take...
...perhaps it was written...
...peace...strum peace between breaths that begin in udjaai, that at once coalesce me with ocean and the bags of weed sold in handshakes on the corners, in the parks, between dips on the bar...light up...this time by myself... this time to drown, to get a ticket to ride...instead i grow into a midnight dreary weak and weary...and float in lyrics like mantras of skinny love...
...OM......inshALLAH...
float on with my arms wide, my smile flickering behind me, lighting the night, laughing crazy like shooting stars colliding into thin air, bursting into a million fireworks...
all praise is due...
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