Untitled

this country could
welcome me with its
liberty and land of free
immensity—my skin
my eyes in melting pot
madness would mix well
in this brave home stew—
all alphabetical
vegetable
split pea and ham
are welcome here—
the froth and broth
and sea of humanity
with all the foibles and
follies of common
folk add the spice
of the living—what
feet propped loose
belt burping
satisfaction comes
from the dead—
some will sit in this
slow burn society—
skimming what they
can from the top—
waiting for the
boil over with
fork and spoon in
hand—the napkin
tucked under second
chin—the tongue
running wet on upper
lip—the end of the world
as we know it coming
coming—the bodies
all red and yellow
black and white
coming—in the kitchen
in America

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