Sitting on a Hill Owned by the Government Part II

The juxtaposition of the sun
to the frozen air of the morning
has my striped shirt in a frenzy,
structured lines of black and white
both absorbing and repelling the light.

My shirt is confused by this photosynthesis,
its two contradicting colors like the two
creative sides of my existence,
like two halves of a fish swimming
through the astrological sky.

Your predictions are too true, stars.

Stars and stripes so often remind me
of nationalism, and I think of the grass
below me which leads me back to Whitman
and the stars and stripes that own this hill.

This anarchist bakes in the sun
like a cracked politician during
a cracked debate, and I think we
are all but free here, our minds
transcending as Emerson said,
loitering on this hill, this Louisiana
Purchase owned by the stars and stripes.