Freedom

By

Jackie Lopez

Let it be sewn in the fabric of our being: love is freedom.

I love all those who are watching the game and those who are not.

I love all those in the marches and those who forgot.

I love all the whims of a whippoorwill.

I love you as ancient DNA swims in your  soul.

I love you in the winter of my discontent.

I love you in the summer of my happiness.

I love you in the  morning and in the spring time.

I love you in the night and in the afternoon.

I love you when you play your drums.

I love you when the song has been sung.

I dance in love.

I plead in love.

I swim in love.

I write in love.

And, I dream in love.

Mostly, I get  naked for love, but have me anyway.

They say I love too much, but I don’t think that is true.

I could love more if there were more of me.

Only, I am afraid I can only handle just one of me.

So, I struggle to break free.

I am enamored enough to go ahead and reserve my order of potatoes.

I have caught a mesmerizing fish.

“Indeed,” he seems to say to me.

I have no shame.

I accost the nomenclature to no end.

I am always delightful in a samba.

I am quixotic in Latin jazz.

I take care not to infringe on other people’s property.

But they always seem to be an abundance of self-righteous Pharisees. 

I offer them cake, but they won't have it.