we got to get out of this place

as i sit on the front porch

sipping coffee

and listening to music, perusing

a new poetry book

i see

my neighbor Lulabelle packing up,

there's a U-Haul trailer

hooked up to her Prius

out front.

hey, i say. you guys moving

already?

yes, she says,

we can't take it any longer,

between

that radical right Maga

and Trump.

all of our rights are being

taken away.

oh really,

like what?

well, for instance, umm,

well....

i can't think of anything

exactly right now.

but we're both

afraid to go to beach and get

a tan,

ICE might pick us up,

because of our skin color.

huh?

but you were born in Baltimore

and your

dad is a cop.

your skin is almost pink.

well, i know, i know, but

they're coming

for us, you'll see. my cousin

is sort of gay

and hides under his bed all day

in his furry costume.

anyone with brown eyes

and a foreign accent,

and likes Bette Midler

or QVC is next.

i mean, my God they banned poor

Jimmy Kimmel

for almost four nights.

the suffering his family must have

gone through.

every time i see a helicopter

in the sky

i pee my pants with fear

that they're coming for us.

you'll see, you're next.

i'd put that poetry book away

if i was you.

hold on,

i need to get these 2028 Kamala and Jasmine

for president signs

into the truck.

so where to? i ask her.

we're thinking Ireland

or California.

we're not sure yet.

maybe Gaza or the West Bank.

okay, i tell her. well, best of luck.

do you need some help with

all of those

Palestinian flags rolled up?