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.

About this Poem

“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.”
—Kamden Hilliard