I will bear the bullets, searching for freedom.
I will go harshly and be firmly bold.
I will buy a rose and feed it to your rifle.
I will speak with another of the importance of ME of being given what I did not choose.
I will write poetry with so many obscure references that you will have no idea what I am saying. But you must remember, these words are mine.
I will pick up and go, and join the inmates of possibility where mundane men, modest but free, find us to the enemy and bring the thunder down.
My friends are mountains of support. I want their ridges framed in soft silk so I may tenderly encircle their fair shoulders like small boulders
These are the small revolutions
the first REAL kiss,
actually winning at something-at anything.
At being more than our father’s were,
nodding to strangers,
turning down timeshares,
picking up hitch-hikers,
appreciating the humor of children
and subtle colour differences.
listening to shared opinions,
thinking before answering
acknowledge shortcomings and asking –
all the wrong fucking questions.