Freedom or, I hate you Pablo Neruda

I leave the building when
light turns to upside Dijon on the leaves
because your name isn’t written anywhere

Aye Sí
I hate you Pablo Neruda

You lung up
cough stanzas from the Fifth Internationale
ahh your dentist seashells waves nude women
in your big red luscious
vocabulary

to praise a minimum wage
you hang out and bum hearts
on Valentine’s Day in plastic cellophane
and stick mirrors in your shoelaces
to see upskirts
to upload on porn sites

I’d give ten to twenty years
of my life to see you behind
Bars fixing a laborer’s White Russian