Above the hum or beneath it I’ll survive.
Looking around with more than just eyes.
Trying not to see but to understand.
People scream and shout in happiness or despair or they might keep quiet while their insides burn.
A Rick Santorum bumper sticker screams to gay people of their evilness and lack of rights, expecting them to accept it all while he discusses ways to divert funding from public education and defends the home schooling of his own kids between sips of champagne. This asshole wants to be President of The United States of America and enough people actually think he’d be a good choice for the job that he wins caucuses and stays in the race. Please, if you’re out there, wake me up and tell me it was all a bad dream and I’ll laugh at the outlandishness of my own subconscious.
Rationalize the lies and they become true to you.
People protect themselves and shield themselves and create their own little worlds. I don’t blame them for that. But when the vibe flattens and the masks come off that’s when I’ll engage, that’s when you’ll see me and I’ll see you and maybe we’ll understand. For now I’ll just dance and look out through the smoke and try my best to live.
(Big Tuba lives in Philadelphia. He's been published on many a men's room wall, and he's friendly.)
