like a red brick in a white hand
thrown toward a yellow school bus
filled with Black faces in Boston
that smacked young Crispus in the face
freedom to make exception, cried Southie
cotton-picked T-shirts with Che
bring on another target, ole'
I took off my skivvies, and swam dark today
like Byron crawling toward Lesbos
10,000 light years away, Don Juanning in the sea
like a quaint concept that doesn't matter
or a vote that doesn't count
a mockingbird sung and hung the same ol' way
thinking the inconceivable banality
of the everyday, and look up at the Sun
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