Kissing in America
Parker Logan
Margo Rabb
We’re here // we’re queer // we’re a Funko POP future gleaming in the distance
we’re a lakefront sinkhole blooming // we’re Americans // we said we weren’t
all that slippage and slop // but we are // stupid as children // dumb to alarms
they won’t stop ringing // silver alert // last call // we’re still dancing
we like DJ // we like liquor // we like light in our eyes
from disco ball that’s stopped spinning // reckless bodies parading
to end of dance floor // this is America and we’re still capitalists
shadow of imperialism // arm like father // his tongue
on ours // the easiest way to transfer language // is by force
we know scream // we know late night and Bunny Hop // there’s always
one more open place // one more party to crash before someone’s sun
lights us up // our God said no more flood // no water
it was a promise // it was a threat // it was a burn notice
for the work he needed to start over // we’re it // we’re the left
overs on the corner of Royal and Frenchman St // of course we’re in
New Orleans // did you think this was Florida // did you think we would
be near a beach // we deserve dirty banquets // palms and ash
ash and ass // palms smacked across our ass // we love-hate it
love to hate it // the first time // I saw my face // I was at a party like this one
I was strawberry // I was pink all over the ground // pink pretty pretty
eyes pretty // green // I loved myself // I didn’t know what
I was pretending to be // my father // my history all over my cheeks
I threw up America // two fists rolled quarters // America threw up me
this country is bright with the saints // of vices // I mean // racists // nicest
shards // we’re a parish of nickelback cowboy histories // we’re longer
than every page in a library // we’re sewn together // humiliation blame
guilt greed // it’s you // it’s me // the stars will collect their debt
when we’re done baring our teeth // and I’m not saying there’s no place left
in America // for us to sleep // we’ve just got a ways // a world // a freight
we’re late // grab the clutch and turn the wheel // we’re thrusting against history’s
tides // coaster rides // put your hand over mine // don’t say we’ll be alright
until we’re alright // this blood we’ve spilt is yelling our names // don’t say it’s alright
we’re a lakefront sinkhole blooming // we’re Americans // we said we weren’t
all that slippage and slop // but we are // stupid as children // dumb to alarms
they won’t stop ringing // silver alert // last call // we’re still dancing
we like DJ // we like liquor // we like light in our eyes
from disco ball that’s stopped spinning // reckless bodies parading
to end of dance floor // this is America and we’re still capitalists
shadow of imperialism // arm like father // his tongue
on ours // the easiest way to transfer language // is by force
we know scream // we know late night and Bunny Hop // there’s always
one more open place // one more party to crash before someone’s sun
lights us up // our God said no more flood // no water
it was a promise // it was a threat // it was a burn notice
for the work he needed to start over // we’re it // we’re the left
overs on the corner of Royal and Frenchman St // of course we’re in
New Orleans // did you think this was Florida // did you think we would
be near a beach // we deserve dirty banquets // palms and ash
ash and ass // palms smacked across our ass // we love-hate it
love to hate it // the first time // I saw my face // I was at a party like this one
I was strawberry // I was pink all over the ground // pink pretty pretty
eyes pretty // green // I loved myself // I didn’t know what
I was pretending to be // my father // my history all over my cheeks
I threw up America // two fists rolled quarters // America threw up me
this country is bright with the saints // of vices // I mean // racists // nicest
shards // we’re a parish of nickelback cowboy histories // we’re longer
than every page in a library // we’re sewn together // humiliation blame
guilt greed // it’s you // it’s me // the stars will collect their debt
when we’re done baring our teeth // and I’m not saying there’s no place left
in America // for us to sleep // we’ve just got a ways // a world // a freight
we’re late // grab the clutch and turn the wheel // we’re thrusting against history’s
tides // coaster rides // put your hand over mine // don’t say we’ll be alright
until we’re alright // this blood we’ve spilt is yelling our names // don’t say it’s alright
Parker Logan is from Orlando, Florida and lives in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. His work has been featured in Split Lip Magazine, Gulf Coast, Pleiades, and elsewhere. He works as a library technician in the East Baton Rouge Parish Library System. You can find more of his work at parkerpoetry.org.
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