Vol 7, Num 20 :: 2008.11.07 — 2008.11.21
The Italian designed pool in Paris
was spring-fed while ours has baby pee.
In Paris the moms go topless,
the men wear Speedos.
Around here we’re thankful they don’t.
But, what is beauty anyway,
but knowing where it comes from.
America is beautiful because she repented,
while Europe just left their oppressed.
In France they call black people Africans,
and they love their music and food.
But for most, Africa is a flavor,
or a color design scheme.
Down on campus the lifeguards play
American music and dance in their seats
hamming it up for the people.
While my Parisian friends slam our oppressive past,
they only let Africans play music, walk a run-way, or load a garbage truck.
I remember the news anchors in my hometown, our mayor, and secretary of state
and feel so thankful that we progressed.
Thankful that we are years ahead of you now,
and sad that your troubles are just beginning.
I’m sympathetic to your rhetoric, but I know
France couldn’t birth a Jill Scott if she tried.
I know Germans still take bus tours to the Apollo
to gawk at black people.
I know King Records in Cincinnati is now a parking lot.
And New York City is still stone-cold racist.
And I’m so sick of it all,
because we’re all equal under the sun.
We are all looking for something that is already here,
casting a shadow on High Street, Brittany, Coney Island, and the Bronx.
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