America and Gay Yoda

Over the past year or so I've had an extraordinary group of new friends enter my life. To a person, they've all been fantastic in their own way and I truly feel grateful for the pleasure of getting to know them.

I call one of them my Gay Yoda. He doesn't know that. He's wise and dispenses fantastic advice and knowledge as casually as I sip bourbon. His words are occasionally cryptic and require some time to sort out, but once I have, I always come out better for it.

And though he will hate that I'm even writing this introduction, it is upon his advice that I'm posting today. He challenged me to let my inner poet speak on here. I've mentioned that I write poetry, but it never really shows up on the blog. So, I'm posting a poem I wrote a few years ago that I came across today while flipping through a notebook.

Like my blog posts, it was written quickly (after driving to work and just as I sat down at my desk). It was towards the beginning of the Iraq War and I was suddenly overwhelmed while in the car during my commute. After the bomb scare in New York this weekend and the growing popularity of the teabaggers and their ultra-patriotism, the poem seemed to still have some relevance. And so...without further ado and and with a nod to Gay Yoda, here it is:

and then it occurred to me

that i too am an american

smelling lilac through

air conditioning vents in

stop and go traffic.

there's a crest on my polo

shirt and i've just stood

in line 13 minutes for coffee.

i don't know what to think.

there's fighting in fallujah

more killing in kabul

texas runs coast to coast it seems

and i felt so

separtist

so isolated

so us and not them.

you see, i'm not what most

would call a patriot

you won't hear me singing

"oh beautiful for spacious skies"

or "pilgrim's feet"

or hell, even smog clouds and Nikes.

but on a thursday morning,

i'm reminded that i too

am an American

another consumer on the capitalist

food chain

a getter, a spender, a place me

on my mark and show me

where the rats are racing runner.

and..i'm shaken

disoriented

if i give into it

i'm shocked...i'm awed.

and i'm angry

i'm angry with myself...hypocrite!

and i'm angry at my friends...how did we get this way?

and i'm angry at the forefathers...look what you created!

and i'm angry at my country.

yes, i'm angry with you

America.

land of the free??? home of the brave???

i've been dreaming your american dream

while suffering from sleep apnea

and now i'm gasping for breath

and realizing how incredulous

you are

how sneaky and covert

you can be.

you've made me one of your own.

its your blood that flows through me

and even if i choke and wheeze

its your air that i'm breathing.

yes, i too am an american

not just because my passport says so

but because there is something you've

instilled in me.

something unmoveable

something modern

something so vital and fundamental

that it can live inside me without

my even knowing it's there.

until

this thursday morning

with the smell of lilac

filtered under my hood

and i realize the irony of

climate control and

climate change

yes, i too am an american

one of yours, and by default

one of theirs.

one of the hordes, the masses

the consuming and the consumed.

and i'm forced to wonder

if i too am an american

lady liberty,

can you take that away from me?