you were supposed
to march to capitol hill
with me and demand that
politicians live in caves.

you were supposed to
be brave as we toasted
marshmallows over a
country that burned
to the ground.

maybe, maybe you were
supposed to die, but
you weren't supposed to
sign up for death.

you were supposed to be
waiting for me outside
the government building
for the delivery of a dream,
not lock yourself in the bathroom,
watching, sadly, as karl marx's
image in the bathwater became
stalin's face, closing the
iron curtain in the shower
while roosevelt stood behind
with a knife.

you were supposed to
believe in a world with
no war but the class war
instead of oceans that
carry knives and teach
lessons about discipline
and how men become men
by getting sucked down drains
at the bottom of the sea.

we were supposed to place
kick me signs on presidents
to show that this country
is sacred, and it could be great,
if only we kicked harder.

you were supposed to kick
and spit and graffiti subway walls
with angry, raging words
instead of waiting for an ocean
to wash out the red dye in your hair.

the communist in you
was supposed to be fearless
but you are not a communist.

you are just
running away.