Torn - 2020

​You held your hand out to me, and I knew what to do,
I reached into my pocket and handed your bribe to you.
You caressed me with propaganda flyers,
Warmed me by the fire of stolen campaign funds.
We dreamt together about breaking the establishment,
And sent love letters to our bureaucratic overlords,
And then we giggled when they failed to notice
The runes, the eagle and the proud striped banner.
You held me to your gas mechanic’s bosom,
And promised protection from the world,
For the measly price of a few small tenders.

Your elaborate swearwords echoed through the airport
As you were caught trying to skip the line.
From your billboards a smiling Jew winked at me,
Your taxi driver charged me extra,
To shuttle me past never-ending constructions works.
I opened the door to the smell of alcohol,
And I knew I had arrived home.

Yet instead of showing affection,
You baked me in your underground,
As if I were some chimney cake,
And froze me with your winter’s kiss
As I crawled along your asphalt skin.
You called me a traitor, an imperialist agent.
You said I wanted you dead, legacy erased.
Yet, I think I have been faithful, in my own way,
It’s just that our ideals don’t really coincide.
​
You took my hope and drove me away,
I pretended not to care.
But I realized you were still a part of me
That I could or would not shed.
Too many mutual axioms and cultural codes
That have become integral to who I am,
Too many sarcastic inside jokes
That only you would understand.
And all these memories, and mutual friends,
That I don’t have the strength to forget…
But even if you change, as some now hope,
Will it be enough, to bring me home?