No Time to Lose - This poem was just published with four other poems at Anti-Heroin Chic





No Time to Lose


It's cold here.
Its color, a ninja turtle orange,
and only 5 days left
for el Presidente Electo
to inaugurate his burned hair,
his head of a hijo de la chingada,
his midget politician tweets.
People say it's worth traveling
to this Swearing In,
that this kind of shit makes you grow.
The thing is my body
cannot stand another Jetblue seat,
another Greyhound cafe.
Besides, winter hurts.
Its whiteness rusts the snow.
Its racism confuses me,
makes me feel small,
like a very distant echo.
Fuck it, if I go back to D.C.
it's because I want to visit
the Smithsonian's
African American Collection.
Where merchant ships loaded
with shipwrecked slaves
cry out my name.

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