Rhizome Ballot

[Verse 1]
The line for the polls on Gwinnett Street is a long, slow braid.
November air thick with exhaust fumes and cheap pomade.
You passed me a water, your knuckles brushed my hand on the cap.
Felt a static charge jump the biological gap.
Old woman in front of us got a church fan with a funeral home ad.
We're standin' on pluff mud history, tryin' not to feel bad.
You check your phone, I check the clouds for the threat of a shower.
You said, "Look at us, Delilah, just claimin' our power."

[Chorus]
And I whispered your name like a prayer then I coughed it away, Marcus.
Actin' like I'm just here to catalog all of this darkness.
This is primary succession, a love in the cracks of the state.
It’s too tender to say, so I just say "It's gettin' late."

[Verse 2]
Remember that biology text with the drawing of mycelial thread?
The hidden connections between all the living and dead?
That’s this block right here, this whole damn Victorian District.
A system of roots they keep trying to say is nonexistent.
They sell sweetgrass roses to tourists a few miles from here.
Sanitize the Gullah, bottle the fear.
But the phenotype’s strong, it’s a dominant genetic trait.
The poll worker's lookin' at me with a look of polite hate.

[Chorus]
And I whispered your name like a prayer then I coughed it away, Marcus.
Actin' like I'm just here to catalog all of this darkness.
This is primary succession, a love in the cracks of the state.
It’s too tender to say, so I just say "It's gettin' late."

[Bridge]
Your thumb draws a line on my wrist, a slow, quiet gesture.
In this humidity, under all of this municipal pressure.

[Verse 3]
And I wanna tell you the truth of the phylum, the filigree feeling that’s growin' in me,
The phototropic way that my focus is pullin' to you, it's osmosis, you see?
This ain't just a vote, it's a vascular system, resistant to poison and political schism.
I'm dissecting the tension, I'm charting the anger that settles like silt in a prism.
From the red clay foundation to the palmetto rattle, we're holdin' the line in a long, quiet battle.
So forget what I said about darkness and waiting, this feeling's a native species, it ain't up for debating.

[Outro]
They call my name next.
Hand you my keys, try to un-clench my chest.