or this man i know with his
blind devotion to an
invisible god and his fear
of the niggers and the
fags and the jews
do i laugh at
what he says?
at who he is?
or maybe his hatreds are
nothing more than
a distorted reflection of my own
maybe he’s only the monster
i can see myself becoming
my father reborn
or any of his friends
drunk and laughing on a
sunday afternoon fifteen years
before the missing girl is
even born and maybe
you’re the same
i will have us all condemned
before
this day is over
