oh brother

The black keys
underneath these fingertips
won't be pushed into writing
another poem about writing.

No, tonight these keys
will open the lock
to my imprisoned imagination.

It will come out of these gates
fuming and livid.
ready to tear the night sky in half
crawl out the other side
into a studio of white
with a thousand paint buckets.

i will dip my hands in the red
and the blue

get patriotic for a second.

then i will light the place on fire
walk out into the street
and listen to the music
of sirens.

I will wave at the police officers
with my american hands
i will wave them my middle fingers
underneath the changing street lights
yellow, green, red.
the colors of Lithuania
A place i've never been
but it seems everyone else
is headed there.

I'll drag the mouse to a new browser
go to one of those sites
put in my credit card number
click print
for proof of purchase.

or maybe, i'll just close out
of both browsers.

do something really daring.
like go outside,