The Excuse of Dementia
My aunt Suzanne is old and crazy
yelling this morning about the "niggers" and "kikes"
she never said a racist word in 80 years
civil rights lawyer and half-Jewish
I can't quiet the rage inside her
Where does that stuff breed?
A switch got flipped by mistake
so intense, hot, disturbing and false.
Is my anger false too?
Do I feel so strongly because
someone flipped my knob?
I think my heart is real
my love for good and truth, justice
I am no not a racist, sexist, classist
body-shamer or able-ist
yet there must be one inside
I can feel it
waiting to turn 80
to use the excuse of dementia
to pop like Jack in the box slamming up
scary, unnatural, screeching sour notes
taunting me that all I am, all I am
my alternating sense of self
is chemical stimuli.
Good or bad.
Crazy or sane.
Love or hate.