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A Note From Willy

Oh, mundane America

home of the free

I let you embrace me

I let you rape me

And yet I walk your streets with the sway of an old house song


I'm tough


Cloaked in capitalism and Jesus

I know your ways

All starry eyed and wet

Finger marks across your neck


Brown Boys in the border towns dressing up

in Polo Sport and Abercrombie

As a flashing sign that they too are America


Your grip is tight

Your tongue is dangerous

And still I walk with the spec of a freshly faded hair cut


I’ll fuck the hell out of you

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