"what's happening? with you, and with America? are there movements? are you moving?"

It aches, I say in my invisible tone
everyone hears you. I can't,
it blends in with my chest,
 I thought.

The old way hisses orange
dying, rise from underneath.
But Hitler's disenfranchised,
lied to, white, corn-syrup fed-
trample and shoot

A woman across the room holds her face
Her palms look into my eyes, awww,
like a best friend, she says, I don’t recognize her.   

Half waving back, visibly computing.
I don't look for rightful recipients until
It occurs to me, she's waving at someone else. 

There’s no one.
She reads my confusion,
her warmth curls in.
I eat my soup, she stands in line.

I'm next to the cups, hot sauce, cream,
coco, dirty-dishes, everyone slows
as they pass. I smell peripheral,

to anticipate and avoid.
I'm embarrassed not to know. 
She never walks past.

Feels like waking up,
but maybe it's in my head.
I see her purple lipstick, real.

Was she waving at me?
Derailed and regretful I wait.

She hugs me
I smile back.
She seems ((maybe not))
I still don't know her name.

My face burns rude with
my repeated inability to
believe I'm worthy.
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