There are faces in the wall outside.
I paint my room a protective color,
something of camoflage
to hide me among the dead lilacs
and the unbreathable evening sky.
My window stays open
so I can spy on the screen doors.
They are building something
in the next room over–
I can feel the floors shake.
I can hear it moving.

Fog tonight over Albany Park.
I wear my horse of metal
and move among the neighborhoods,
find the place where I see you sometimes
and ride around it for a while.

On the statue I climb to wait for you
someone has written a message:
together we can end racism.
Someone has crossed out “racism”
and written “capitalism.”
I cross out “capitalism” and write “ourselves.”
Someone will cross out my word.
That is all this is, isn’t it, I ask the statue’s head.
the endless replacement of evils.

2 thoughts on “Coping

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