STATE LINES
California Poetry
Noah Blaustein’s poem centers on a man forced to confront his own political contradictions. From his perspective, the president’s glad-handing parade is a hollow sham. And yet, as a white citizen who has the privilege of “protesting privately,” the speaker is complicit in America’s war(s) abroad. Juan Juan, his barber, has real skin in the game and brings the speaker’s hypocrisy into relief. Juan Juan suggests he doesn’t have the legal status necessary to risk protesting in public, whereas the speaker has no such excuse. Whether Juan Juan is teasing or not, his razor, pressed against the speaker’s neck, is the instrument that might wake the speaker into a new sense of civic responsibility.
History
The orchids in the flower shop droop in prayer — a president and his war procession shake preselected parade hands up the street. Juan Juan, my barber, asks in Spanish, these elections, these wars, do I protest? He says, “I would. Me corazón está aquí but I’m not really here.” He sharpens his strop razor. The sun hits the aluminum windowsill at full squint.
For months at lunch at the cantina I’ve looked at the halved bodies on the front page and done nothing but draw zebras with table salt, make, on my way home, the neighbor’s plastic flamingos chuckle. “I’ve protested privately,” I say, “but I haven’t joined that peace dance downtown.” Juan Juan puts his razor back against my neck. “Your hands,” he says, “are beautiful.” “They’re white eagles with bullet holes through their chests.”
“History” is from “Flirt,” by Noah Blaustein. The poem appears with the permission of the University of New Mexico Press. All rights reserved.
Noah Blaustein lives in Santa Monica. He is the author of “Flirt” and a forthcoming poetry collection, “After Party.”