Janitorial Duties

My favorite shade of red is the one I see most frequently

It’s the one I see when I’m to sweep up the confetti

It pulsates with a vibrant burgundy hue

And radiates down my spine.

I consume it willingly and perhaps naively

For I believe in the collective power of the human spirit

But eventually, that oxblood shade becomes the only color I see.

When the inclusion stops, I’m to head back to my underfunded neighborhood and rest my head to the sweet sounds of helicopters and pistols firing

Arms get tired and the picket signs get placed down

The solidarity dissipates back into basic human selfishness

And emptily, my janitorial duties are all I have left to fulfill