On Your Strange Insistent Rhythmic Pride

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You should be proud/
Of your nomadic optimism
Like an argument that runs
Through my lungs

I who wish you would stay/
With me, my little overflowed veins
Glad enough to be in your service
You should be proud
You are able to silence

The heart of your attachment/
Bolder, you’ve silenced them
Haven’t you? My thousand heart-beats

That didn’t know how to bloom/
I watch you, like a red flower
At the train station, where I gasped
At how you flee, another country

Another city, another poem/
You should be proud
That you are a foreigner, that you belong
Everywhere, anywhere, a bright gold flower
Like an Asian in New York City

You know how to run, and/
You have filled me with poems to the brink
You should be proud, you know how
To slip under the gates and stuff

Your pockets with that last cigarette/
The last time I Saw you, you helped
Me escape, in leather and jeans
From Latin names, and psychoactive mushrooms
You should be proud, though I can’t secure

The rumor of your subtle flattery/
My poetic neck is marked
With tattoos of your courage

Strung up on tightropes, you possess/
Qualities of translation, I couldn’t dream to have
There is no equal opportunity between us
We are just different, strangers
Lost in the crowds, the tango and language
Of all that I loved, yet could never possess.

2 thoughts on “On Your Strange Insistent Rhythmic Pride

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