Very relevant, very powerful, and all too real.
You’re right, it isn’t my country,
despite swapping states,
like I used to swap Pokémon cards,
and completing the assimilation game,
without cheat codes.
“Uncertainty is excellent,
all is well.”
Says ageing, expat, pop star scum.
I’ve never stolen anything,
but the hearts of a few,
and even then,
I returned them, with interest.
I still can’t shop without being watched,
I’m hoping my private reality show is cancelled, soon.
He’s right, this isn’t my country ,
despite all I’ve given.
I wanted to be just like you, once,
or at least the you on sale in gift shops.
Tea, Oxbridge pleasantries,
it isn’t real,
and now, neither am I,
despite the very real passport in my possession,
that is happy to claim me as one of your own.
I only want to own myself,
and walk the streets,
hopeful, as you do.
I do not go where I am not…
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