Quivering lips betray a cowards feign
Who am I nowadays?
This man I saw, on the street
He was talking on the phone, rushing
Everyone around him seemed meaningless.
Their existence only physical obstacles through which he weaved
I want to be important.
We want to be important.
The kid on the corner, selling bubblegum
His teeth, gaped, some metallic, with bubblegum juice gushing forward
Who are we?
Who are we? they ask.
The crowds gather, and huddle, turbulent
Shouts rocket.
"Fuck Trump"
Their sounds indiscernible.
The energy is there.
It fills the lungs of minorities and they scream
It soaks the white fist, clenched, white knuckled
It broods the antipathy, it stokes the anger
A social conflict, two groups, every emotion, countless stories
The kid on the corner,
He watches
Spit and cries meet grimaces, and chants
A moment filled with so much life
And he stands amidst it, selling bubblegum.
