The day after
We were Americans:
Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Halloween.
Carried our flags, made our jokes, drove
our cars which were our legacy.
We guarded the disbursement of history
in morsels designed to whitewash,
designed to forget. Talked about liberty.
We did the right thing, sometimes, the
standing-up and shouting-down, the
changing and growing.
We were Americans.
We did not like to admit when we
were wrong. On a good day, we fed
the neighbors’ cats and
watered their house plants. We
wore what we wanted and the
middle school girls were cruel
but eventually we were adult
Americans and it was ok to cut your
hair, roll your jeans, pierce,
tattoo, travel, love.
On a good day, we tried to help
the environment and sent
human beings into space and
agreed for once that racism was
bad, though we never fully
grasped that it was
breaking us.
We were Americans.
We built monuments to the wrong people and
tore them down, though not all
of them, though we had to do the tearing in
the middle of the night,
when our bodies insisted we were just
babies who needed to sleep.
We were Americans.
We did not protect the actual
babies, the actual children who needed
food and warm clothing and
safe housing and who needed, absolutely
needed, to go to school free from worry
about getting shot. We bathed an entire
generation in anxiety and then
told them
it was their fault.
We were Americans.
Broken by health care costs,
we just got sicker and denied
women the full and inherent autonomy
of their bodies, as if such a thing
could be debated.
We were infuriated that a Black man
was President, infuriated more that a Black
woman wanted to be, though they were
the best of us. The best of us.
The alternative promised to use
our military against us, made fun
of people who were born with
any difference, lacked
compassion and empathy.
He assaulted women.
He cheated and cheated.
Made of poisonous air, he did not
understand history or responsibility or
love. Instead, he pulled on a
McDonald’s apron as if
that brought understanding. He
vomited hate as we remained.
And there we were:
Americans.
Once upon a time,
Americans.
The Wandering Introvert 