Patty Hearst ii

Hey. Hey you. This is the SYMBIONESE LIBERATION ARMY.
And I am ME. Here to free you from your chains.
As I myself have been freed. …And oh Patty,
isn’t that what we dream of, to be somewhere freed?
Rushed off, kidnapped, stuffed in a closet and reborn.
Free. And what you do doesn’t matter.
And I am Phoenix. And you, you’re a bunch of dry ashes
who doesn’t get me, who I am. (I’m a figure of some importance.)

How quickly we can go. From a life of boring humdrum
commonplace, and then — Holy fuck,
is that a machine gun? Great.
And how quickly we can go, all want to go,
from I can’t believe this is happening, to Fuck it —
maybe I will help rob a bank, to Hey —
this machine gun has hardly any kick-back.
Every night, every night, we lie awake
dreaming that someone will come
and free us for adventure.
(No more boring clothes,
now we’re clad in a cool black coat.)
And without us ever having to — the prayer unknown —
without us ever having had to even ask for it.
You’re just there. And you know. And hey you.