Lulabelle, is a veteran protester.
she's got the blue
hair going on,
the septum ring,
and is in transition to becoming
a furry
Cheetah.
she invited
me in for tea
and crumpets the other
day
to chat.
we're friends despite
her leaning
left and me
more right and down
the middle.
she has a stack of flags
neatly folded
on her table.
next to her megaphone,
her spray
paint
and whistles. i see
a pride flag, a Palestinian
flag, an F Trump flag,
a Mexican flag,
a Venezuelan flag,
a Somalian flag, and now
an Iranian flag.
but no
American flag, to which i ask
her why.
she shrugs
and says, i don't know.
i guess i don't like
this country.
but then why don't you
leave,
i ask her. go live somewhere else.
oh, because other countries
won't let me
wave all these other flags,
so i guess i'm
stuck here in this dictatorship.
plus i have six cats
to take care of, and it would
be hard to relocate
them.
can i get you more tea,
another crumpet?
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