hurt people

we all know that
hurt people
hurt people and a
hurt person's worth is
perverted from
serving people
to bringing em down

i've never been
so in love
with a place or a name that
an affront to that space has
justified causing pain
never had to save face
never had so much to gain

but then again
i've never been required by law
to live
in the colored district

if my father
had grown up in seattle
he would've

if he and his first wife had
getting a place together would have
been illegal
as recent as fucking 1968 -
the year they got married.

and so
because domination is paternalistic
so is internalized
racist
territorialism.

location, location, location.

gentrification doesn't work both ways though
white people in the colored district
don't hang your heads
this is a free country
free market
better prices, better neighborhoods
the last few generations of white families want
neighborhoods with diversity
with culture

but 23rd and union is not
lower capitol hill!
but as we motherfuckers with
our vegan queer co-op houses
open up shop all up and down 23rd
going further and further south
guess where the black people are going?

i guess i can't understand roots
because i've never had chains
when you're attached to your
forty acres

you get attached to them

i can't understand violence as an answer
because i haven't been asking the right questions

what does home
mean to me
and how much
is it worth?

and when it
hurts
so deep
you can't see your feet and
your fear is a foil to your
humanists' streak -
what makes the difference
between the fierce and the meek?
between those who would soothe
their hurt by loving
and those who amplify the impact
of their suffering
by spreading it to others?

someone once told me
namaste - your hurt is my hurt
aloha - your hurt is my hurt
ubuntu - your hurt is my hurt

you don't have to hurt me
because i felt it when you did.

so what's up with you kid?

two kids.
it's stupid;
enter the central district
one kid leaves,
bruised, battered and bleeding
asphalt and leaves
in his hair
to complement the cracked ribs

and this is what hurt kids do
and i ain't felt it
but let me tell you, kid
i hurt too

i am a man.
i think
i mean
i used to know

i used to know
before i encountered all these little letters.
lgbtq - and if you're really feeling generous?
you can append a qiappa to the acronym but
sometimes i forget what
some of those letters mean
and it's easier to stick to q.

maybe because it's tough to define.

i used to be

something definable
something clear
something normal.

not something queer;
not different
not strange
never estranged from
those comfortable
conservative
estimates about human nature.

but estimates they were
just guesses
who wears dresses
and who pants

who kills the spider
inching closer
who comforts who
when

these things were natural
we were told

which of us
cooks dinner
three nights out of five
which of us
six nights out of seven
is the big spoon

who initiates

who's masculine
who's got strength
and who power
who took a minute
and who an hour

who's cute and
who's not
who gets your
stomach, heart, dick
tied up in knots

who features in flights of fancy, and
who you wanna go home with
who you want to marry
who completes that myth

we were taught when we were young
about right and wrong
about love and hate
in all those silly love songs,
those fables, those films

that were never about
a bad-ass,
masculine-ass,
hard-ass dude
and another dude

that were never about
mutual understanding
respect
consent
caring
the long term

and i wonder becuase

cuz i loved a girl.
i did,
but i also think
this dude i know's cute

so how can one be a man
when one's integrity is -
if not lost but
in doubt

because how can one be whole
when one doesn't even know
half of the multitudes one contains

we are boundless creatures
says this poster above a past mentor's desk
but all i've ever known
are boundaries

all i've ever known is
pre-defined
outlined
prolly blind
identities
intertwined
with religion
and circumstance
and what's right
and wrong

if there's a letter for me
it's q
and
while it's comforting that
there's a letter for me
it doesn't provide security

and so i'm
lost in the ether
maybe forever
wondering what or who
i am
i loved a girl
but i'm not,
according to what i've been taught
a man

when the light places become dark again
and you're left no face to save
when you're honest with yourself
when you smile quietly

then the dark places become light again
and the fears melt - like pounds could
if they would -
if you would -
be better -
and then
it's dark again