At the concert for revolution, the verses
were sharp as Eldridge Cleaver’s, and everyone
pronounced Cuba, ku-ba. Three blonde girls
grinded their asses - flat as Novocain - down the leg
of the man with red lips tattooed on his neck,
and the Pakistani kids with umbrella-like hats
kept calling each other the n-word. The freedom
fighter spoke about disarming armored trucks,
and freeing all the guns in them, (guns being money),
while a young atheist with a t-shirt long as a sundress
hollered you owe me twenty dollars! Drunk off Molotov
cocktails, the frat boys turned pit bull, and when the emcees
told everyone to throw a fist in the air, I being the non-
conformist that I am, folded my arms into a bow.

Michael Cirelli's first full-length collection of poems, Lobster with Ol' Dirty Bastard, will be published in the Spring of 2008 by Hanging Loose Press. After living in Oakland for many years, he came to NYC to further his "writing career." Aside from completing an MFA at the New School, he works with thousands of NYC teens every year as Executive Director of the award-winning not-for-profit organization Urban Word NYC.

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Keywords : Revolution,

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