Max Mundan

Let me touch you in the places where forgiveness lives, on the temple, on the shoulder, on the chest.

These Trump supporters want us to know that they smile at African-Americans and hold the door for them when they are entering buildings. They think it’s important that we understand they have a Hispanic coworker or a favorite gay waiter they treat as a friend and, therefore, have their tender feelings hurt when they are called mean names like “racist” or “homophobe.”

I kissed you as you pressed
your perfect body close to mine
and I could have walked away;
I almost walked away,

And we must be
love,
for everyone,
even those whom we despise.

We have danced along each other’s borders since before we were born, your eyes calling to me, between dimensions, with gentle whispers of greenish-blue.

Donald Trump’s hopes for winning the office of president and thus becoming one of the most powerful people in the world may be broken and dashed and that is an absolutely wonderful thing, but that doesn’t mean that the work ahead of us is finished. It is just getting started.

You are the last love of my life,
the great and true soulmate
I have struggled many lifetimes to find.

I could never do anything as petty as merely love you.

I have known you for a minute.
I have loved you for a minute,
and in this minute
we should make love,
with thunder and lightning, with
earthquake and hurricane, raining
our desire in each other’s desert.

To love completely
is to lose.

I don’t believe in God
but when I look in your eyes
so gorgeously filled
with survival, lust and heartbreak
I have to admit
I still believe in love

Somewhere on this godforsaken earth there must be a mint strong enough to erase your name from my lips.

if you want me
to squeeze your breasts hard, kissing
my way down your immaculate body,
caressing the deep, oceanic smooth
of your skin, till my tongue discovers
the enigmatic folds of your secret,
just ask me.

Another day, another room
and you
wet, warm and willing
We shed our guilt and our shame
just like our clothes
and leave them lying on the floor

I do not care how old you are. If you keep trudging ahead and don’t give up completely, there is love to be found. Real, fierce, passionate, gut wrenching love.

Is that what you mean when you say,
“Let’s go back
to the good ol’ days.”?
‘Cause those good ol’ days
may have been good
for rich
straight
white
Christian
men
but they weren’t so fuckin’ hot
for anybody else

Lily-white suburban lives have always mattered. It’s African-American lives and Hispanic lives and women’s lives and gay lives that we toss away like they’re used banana peels. 

What do we need to do to bring about real equality and change in this country?