Performance Art

This poem was written on the side of a road in Westbrook while I worked as a canvasser this summer with the Maine People's Alliance. It was one of those 90 degree days. For some context, I canvassed places around Maine as urban as Westbrook to as rural as a track of Route 1 with half mile long dirt driveways. I got a lot of hairy looks from people and a lot of genuine kindness from voters. An experience to say the least.

Performance Art

sweaty paper
how many more shows tonight?
nothing to do w/ how flashy I dress
is that poison ivy

trekking

urban jungle
         v.
Trump-infested wilderness

sorry to interrupt
Your Precious Evening
hope you didn't have many plans
i apologize for the inconvenience
(don't mention that i haven't found a place to pee yet)
hi! have you heard of
human struggle & how
You Can Help?

<<how did you get here?>>
yes, ma'am, I flew in by boat
now I'm hoofing it w/ my own feet

I find an amiable patch of
dirt to sweat on
shine an apple &
look for people in cars I recognize

she smokes in her Jeep
my apple tastes like pesticides
the sun beams like warm buttery gold
salt stinging ripped open bugbites

filling up my head & your head
w/ passing car sounds
(doppler)
expecting to see my
Mother or the handful of folks I
know in good ol' Westbrook

i found an ant colony
they tickle my spine
(is that poison ivy)