Poem #19: 🛑

You’re not a

Red flag

Or a yellow light.

You’re a detour sign

That redirects me from

Atlantis

To

Some Midwest state

That no one

Actually lives in.

Your welcome sign

Advertised

Palm trees and beaches

And drinks I didn’t have to pay for.

And I arrived

To tumbleweeds

And dust

And a broken, red-dyed slushie machine.

What’s it like to publicize

Michelin three stars and be

7-11 on the inside?

What’s it like to fantasize

You’re a penthouse suite but be

A low-end hostel in a third-world country,

Uncivilized?

I am amazed at your ability

To organize and prioritize your lies —

That come before me and

What lies inside my heart

And between my thighs.

Sir, I cannot patronize your spirits store

That only sells bottom-shelf lies.

Thank you.

Thank you for showing me

How to recognize

A man who just wants to vandalize

My stop sign.