THE BOUNCER

We need a bouncer at the door,

muscular and loyal, because

they are sneaking in the back entrance,

burrowing under the foundation,

climbing over the fence,

all to taste the fruitiness of our wines,

to hide in the night so as to

bask in the sun, or dwell in the cellar,

waiting for us to turn our backs

so they can steal from our kitchen,

and with full bellies rob the remainder

of our possessions, jeer our ambitions,

spit on our children’s futures as they

inundate us like bacteria run amok.



We need a bouncer at the door

to protect who we are, which is

the sum of our sacrifices,

work, pain. laughter. We earned

our sovereignty, and they want to siphon it

like oil from a well, draining our energy,

depleting our drive, breaking the mirrors

to deprive us of our identity.



We need a bouncer at the door

who will demand they make eye contact

as they hold out their hands,

look skyward and promise to play

our game according to the rules

while adhering to the game’s dynamics,

vowing to speak in a vernacular

we can understand, because the policy

clearly states one menu fits all, read it

or make the choice to go hungry.



We need a bouncer at the door

while we still own the house.