Leaving America

I am hatching a plot to escape. They won't stop
Me. I'll shave off my beard. I'll put on a suit,
And pretend to be another businessman bent
On exploiting whatever I find in the south.
They will smile, the sycophants, working
Their scanners. They won't know what I
Have in mind as they usher me into my seat.
Twelve hours later, I'll finally feel myself
Freed from the empire's death grip, and then
I will loiter in coffee shops, bars, and I'll learn
To speak Spanish. I'll erase myself to become
One who lives in a place without ruthless
Ambition. I'll root, from some table, for all
Of the victims my former home's monsters
Intend to defeat. Said monsters are weakening.
Soon they will die, and, if I survive long
Enough, trust me, you'll hear me, cheering
From somewhere, a bar or cafe, a place
To which I have escaped.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 42 times
Written on 2020-01-31 at 02:40

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