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Poems

Occupy Nothing

Occupy Nothing

We got drunk with homeless people

in tents outside city hall

in the frigid air last fall.

The movement fell apart,

and the city would rather tear up the pavement

around the half-abandoned administrative center

for an indefinite amount of time

than have the wrong people transparently living

out there in the middle of the city

for everyone to see.

At least now the vagrants and troublemakers are scattered

about so no one can pay attention once again.

Someone got shot there during fourth of July;

thousands of people were herded through the gates of hell,

“to celebrate fascism” as a nice old man commented to me

as I walked by, I didn’t know what to respond.

We left as soon as we got there because it was beyond suffocating.

There is a lack of understanding in everyone, and it is exhausting not being naive.

Philadelphia will remain static on the outside.