Perspective
Jason Henry
the breakbeat boosts
her belief
that she has to live
in Portland
she’s yelling over
the speaker system
and my concern that
she’s running from something
she’s running from
something that
Portland’s silence will only hide
for a time
we separate and sojourn from
our stubbornness
for some soup
and sativa
the odd couple rock and wine
and I laugh to myself
that they’ll do this more
in Canada
than they ever will here
prophets are never
loved in their hometown
and neither are scientists
when the cold
smothers you to death
you will remember how warm
water pipes can be
after it bakes in the
Patrick City sun
the dance floor
is a blood sacrifice
and by Levitical law
our sins shall be washed away
for as much as we
bun out Babylon,
many of us here tonight
under the sanguine moon
have visited foreign gods
and taken their gold
for our own;
Selassie hides His wrath
for we are a wicked people
and God is a jealous god;
we are his children,
the sheep of disaster
he wants what’s best for us;
we miss the irony
anyways
baby girl and I have resumed
as the reverb
slaps the spliff we share
she reiterates her point,
I don’t like repeating myself;
she asks me where would
I want to live
“Portland”
happy resentment rejuvenates
her presumption
that I am a difficult man
I am merely projecting
my fears, baby girl;
but I don’t know that,
not yet
I wouldn’t tell you
how I felt
if I hadn’t already
suffered a similar fate
I wouldn’t warn you
about what you may
be missing
if I didn’t care
“but I like Negril too”
you already told her
what she wanted to hear,
shut up
