The Revolution, or Monday Night Lovers

We will be

Monday night lovers.

To leave space

for the promises you want to make

to someone else

someday.

Fall into my arms

with your week,

and your weak,

and your woe.

And I will love you well.

For a moment,

if that is all you have.

Your people;

they will cry,

harlot!

wanton!

no!

But my people; 

they hear me.

Hear us.

Cheer for love.

No matter that it changes,

that it ends,

that it is reborn again in the spring

as the sun begins to shine.

In Chicago,

where the seasons change,

we know these rhythms.

Here, 

where we embrace this Revolution,

I am home in who I am.