This is to you, America.
To my friends and countrymen,
You who live and work alongside me,
Who walk the same streets
Through the same four seasons.
To you, tending the bar
Or the cash register;
You who drive the trucks and stock the shelves,
Or scrub the floors and bathroom stalls.
To you with whom I share so many fleeting moments
And casual conversations.
To you my poem, my plea…
What do you see when you look at me?
A hippie, a liberal, a loser, a fag?
Can you see past my age, my hair, my clothes,
The color of my skin?
Can you see that there is a soul in here,
The same as you?
I too have flesh that feels, that hurts and bleeds;
A heart that loves, and longs to be loved;
A head full of hopes and dreams…
I can relate to you,
With where you’ve been and what you’ve been through.
Why don’t you take a chance today,
And open up a little bit?
Tell me something real.
Enough about the weather.
I don’t care about last night’s game.
And for God’s sake
I don’t give a damn who won American Idol!
Tell me something real!
Tell me about your family, your children.
Tell me about your dreams, your passions.
I want to see your eyes light up!
What makes you smile?
What makes your heart ache?
What do you love? What do you fear?
What do you think about when you’re all alone?
I’m sick of the shallow and the superficial.
I can’t stand anymore fake, scripted encounters.
I’m asking you to forget what’s ‘normal’,
What’s safe, what’s expected,
And open up!
Please – just once – forget about your schedule,
Where you’re going and what’s next,
Long enough to be here, now.
I’m begging you to pause for just one second,
Put down your fuckin’ iPhone,
And look at me.
Look around you!
Feel this moment, this connectedness,
This space we share.
For God’s sake feel something!
I’m begging you…
Show me your soul, if you have one.
Open up and feel…
Show me something real.