It’s nice to feel powerful.

It’s nice to walk into a coffee shop with no tables, 
Only pillows on the floor and on the giant stairs
And typewriters everywhere and feel taller
When the male barista asks you
What kind of croissant you want. 

It’s nice to accidentally walk into a hallway
With tables everywhere and tri-fold posters on those tables
And people in suits sitting in plastic chairs behind the tables
And be able to turn around and leave without your face getting hot.

It’s nice to go around in the revolving door again
Just because it’s fun and
Just because you feel like it. 

It’s nice to think about how revolving doors
Are eco-friendly because technically
They’re never closed. 

It’s nice to scream
“This is what democracy looks like” 
With a hundred people you’ve never met before. 

It’s nice to know that these people
Would help you up if you tripped over the curb
Because you were too busy
Looking at a dog in a sweater to pay attention. 

It’s nice to realize your cheeks hurt from smiling so much
And your feet hurt from walking so far
And your heart hurts from loving so hard, 
But in a good way. 

It’s nice to know that
I am a nasty woman, 
A granddaughter of the witches they were unable to burn, 
A concept and identity
That would make old, rich, white men tremble. 

As they should. 

Because one day, our voices, our footfalls, our heartbeats
Will shake the flawed infrastructure of this country to the ground. 

It’ll be nice to see that happen.

Ally Bush's interests include color coordination, green beans, space, and rehearsing what she has to say at a drive-thru 10 minutes before she gets there. She's a student at Queens University of Charlotte and spends her days reading, sleeping, and procrastinating.