Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Drugging the Pateroller

I don’t identify as a white man.
Yes, I’m among the privileged.
Try to pin me if you can—
my identity slick as a corn can
I tried to run, but I got bridged.
But I can always pass for a white man.
I've tried the grits, give me the ham!
The powder on my nose is smudged.
Feed me! I know you can!
Hiding here behind my fan
(other improprieties have been alleged,
such as pretending not to be a man).
My forebears from a northern land,
but the boundaries have become all fudged,
so try to catch me if you can!
Going right from the frying pan
into the fire with the plans I’ve fledged,
but the police always know I’m a white man.
They don’t try to shoot me, but they can.