the politics of my love

to those i have no desire to speak to,

i introduce myself as a socialist. they

say i am an interesting man, walk away

and i never see them again. my plan

works most of the time. now there

is this one fellow. before i can say a

word he tells me he is a syrian king.

i tell him i belong to the persian race.

i come from a place of scented

meadows and majestic mountains.

i love my brothers as i do my sisters.

each has their taste of divine pudding.

we sleep together amongst the reeds

that grow from gypsum soil. the king

offers me a hanging garden with my

own babylon. i will be his concubine.

he placed my pipe to his lips, then fills

my mouth with intoxicating spirits. to

this day he sees me as just another

naked socialist.

One thought on “the politics of my love”

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