Persona Non Grata
A great conversation while it lasted;
my favorite instance re-occurred with each
heckling come to pass, at the arrival of some
campaigning official. Didn't matter the color
of his party-line or what hand webbed an
acronym for his ideological leaning. This time
around, ciphers continued to pop elenchic
around issues his grin tweaked to place
promise on as he came waving his way in, and
then twitched to keep, through a shamed egress.
This time, It wasn't hierarchy listing who'd
step up to speak. Within the periphery of police
surrounding corners on these Manhattan
streets, crowds formed beneath storm clouds
and not to gawk up at a podium this time.
From over the limestone of Roman balconies elites
used their breaks to sneer down upon the stay-in,
cupping champagne; proletariat had become too
occupied warring with petite-bourgeoisie to pay
attention to pamphlet tigers shaking hands through the
corners of our eyes. ..I was busy taking bets on the shaft.
—Tony Rivera, New York, NY
