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Archive for November, 2012

Things I shouldn’t be doing that I am doing:

Checking my email every 7 minutes
Checking facebook every 7 minutes even though I blocked a certain page
Checking my phone every 4 minutes
Looking at pictures that make my stomach hurt
Looking at inspirational quotes with pictures, the subject: love
Thinking about writing a post for Missed Connections
Thinking about writing a heartfelt email
Thinking about writing a variety of text messages ranging from hopeful to enraged to nostalgic to desperate
Imagining all of the possibilities and making a pro/con list for each
Not breathing
Not eating
Taking too many naps
Staying up too late
Drinking too much coffee
Hoping any of this will make a difference

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“Whenever I land at Dulles I think of you…Happy Thanksgiving, lady.”

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Just like me, my racist relatives want to be happy; they don’t want to suffer.

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Thanksgiving doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving
because I’m having the big meal tomorrow,
but I’m still thankful today for:
Living alone,
sleeping in,
being warm and well-fed
(breakfast sandwich, mocha),
sitting on the couch,
wearing Z’s warm flannel shirt,
peace and quiet.
Mostly, maybe, that this list could go on for days,
that I am able to love.

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pops after dark in my neighborhood mean celebrations for the new year
we just want gas prices to stay low
we just want jerry’s health to improve because we can’t afford a weakening heart anymore
we just want kevin to keep a job for more than a month because he’s given up on school (but hopefully not for good)
we just want to relax
we just want…

pops after dark in your neighborhood mean there won’t be celebrations for the new year
and i can’t say what you want
but i imagine being afraid doesn’t make the list of your desires
and i imagine a community 1400 less wasn’t the plan
and i imagine rebuilding homes wasn’t in the works
and i imagine that there is no humanitarian crisis in the Gaza Strip sounds foreign to you
and i imagine i’ve never felt fear

pops after dark in my neighborhood end
and i don’t notice they (you) are missing
just as i hardly noticed how they began

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In 3rd grade,
I wrote to President Clinton.
After participating in school activities on Earth Day,
I sent him a letter to ask:
How can I do more to help the environment?
I got a response, from an intern or aide no doubt,
but I was filled with youthful optimism,
and I felt I had been heard.

Seventeen years later,
I wrote to President Obama.
On the anniversary of the murders
of Elba and Celina Ramos
and 6 Jesuits in El Salvador,
I sent him a letter to ask:
What about SOA,
and what about Pakistan,
and what about Palestinians
who died this week?
And for fuck’s sake,
what does this make us
(other than complicit)?

The stamp on the envelope said: Freedom!
The stamp on my heart is much heavier.

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