I want to be trapped behind windows,
amongst forgotten records,
with the scabs and memories
of those gone before me
who lost the good fight
and paid in time.
I want the certainty of streetlights,
surveying the hidden few,
who found the unspoken recipe
for a narrative of autonomy.
I want the top floor,
where well-dressed predators
consider jumping out windows
just to experience the perfect view.
I want to be seduced
with red wine, blue cheese
and white lies.
I want to witness the Judges
judge the witnesses.
I want my own clichés.
I want the scrutiny of many
who, in search of potential,
plot the dreaded assimilation
of my strengths and faults.
I want my faults
to live on the moisture of your tongue,
in your sinuses and sinew,
so you can taste what I speak
in the archives of shared experience,
trapped behind these windows.
Written by Jordan Hamel, 2018 New Zealand Poetry Slam champion