sixty revolutions to go off the rails

she went straight at the T

IT’S

MY

NEW

ORPHAN

ODYSSEY

take a foot off the brake, a hand off my shoulder

a head off the rails

where it was stuck

bulbous eyes still leering at me

me, 12, and it, 24

sixty revolutions and sticky sleeves

from jam peeled off the flaky, buttery layers of

YOUR IMPERIAL CRIMES

that pulled yellow grocery bags over the eyes

of folks in the streets

and now they walk around

plastic-headed

oblivious to the violence

and the hate

and the spiral staircase of chauvinism

old white fucks portraited on every landing

take my hand at the T

off the rails like your foot off the brake

WE SURGE

THEY SCOURGE

is this the first time

i’m bein heard?