america, you talk to me like i am
a child. you are so much defense and so
little offering- leave me to question even
the thought of you. a land, yes, a
home, but here is where you are losing me -
your gate falls inward and tells me to
lie face down, napping with the
lights on, all my notions about
the things you might be behind me.
your freedom coughs. ahem, over
the assignment. and when you asked it
of me, i did try to acknowledge what you've
been announcing, but i couldn't deny
the sources that kept tickling my
reflex and hiding under the seat.
america, it's not that you're not any
good. it's just that, maybe you've
forgotten- when i drink water
with whiskey, water with beer or
water with wine, i get drunk. and now
i'm drunk, america, but you're
the water.
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