Ride W Favor
No tears No tips No meters No nips [well mayb] No Lyft No Uber No 1-8 hundo But he do wanna kno How yu been? Where’d yu go? & yu kno yu best talk harder 2 pin his desire Even tho we didn’t start the fire yu wait 4 the punchlite The lines of blinker Yu ask of Mom & Dad & late nite D sires—dimes o’ lite Till so close yu must b Southwest Delta American Air lines Here here is gud don’t worry So he pop the hood & yu roll in Left ‘em full gud on the queerer questions of queer kin -ship What danger cost 2 much patron saint of patrón? Pain 2 paper alchemy? Skycap’n of the pitiful sellin’ out damn spot!? My politic ain’t got a pot dealer 2 piss off I’m peppery—I’m emphatic as an amphetamine Can’t cut myself out of me in2 the blank holes of nite The whole pre-fires The whole —Okay okay I started the firelol boring in2 the air via port Bony-ass horizon I’m drug poor I pay my way
Copyright © 2018 by Kamden Hilliard. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on August 20, 2018, by the Academy of American Poets.
“Airports materialize the intersection of surveillance, commerce, and desire in the splitting of people between citizen and other. It’s rough stuff. So, I wanted to consider how or why one gained access to such a place. I wanted to reflect upon the propulsive substances of desire.”