Why I stopped leaving the house
She apologized for whatever it was
The elders had done
Oh, Mommy, we can never know
All that we don't know
But in the end they tell me
It will all be revealed
In our dreams
Maybe it had something to do
With nests built too high
And a religion that taught me
The secret magic of
Colanders, Spin Cycles
and talking to trees
And plastic education that
Begat marrying into industries
And royal families
That saw me only as bone
And uterus
Expected to use Mr. Higgins' English
Though I came here in steerage
Surrounded by people
Obsessed with peerage
Their genes driving time, not mine
Nor the forest's or the tree's
Or the apple's or its seed's
But everyone shouting
Me me me alone in their houseboats
on a dying sea
Guns, germs and steel
ensure that's to be
I live in a town named for Love
Where you can have Cupid himself
Postmark your mail
And then get shot in the face for being
Black, old, sad or slow,
or even just a puppy
I live in a world where
unlike you showed me
People find
Sorry a word that makes
Them weak in the eyes of their
Blueblooded squatters
I don't even know, but apparently
I was also born a crime
Too slow quiet hungry short fat
An alien in my own skin
Not meant for here or there
Surrounded by a cacophony of opinion
Facts, figures and masks
Fights over jobs I'll never earn
Food I haven't grown, can't eat
And air that chokes babies
and granddaddies in their sleep
In a country where pant wearers
Sold our inner and outer epithelia
to corporate interests
To uphold a system hungrier than we
Of paid slavery
A national pigskin-induced concussion
A system that pits my existence
Against the environment
And others
All hoping for the final show
Of Christ 2.0 with nowhere left to go
But don't worry, Mom;
I'm not just a pair of boobs
I'm also a pair of legs
And nobody comes when I scream
Or replies to my email
And nothing I say makes any sense
Must be run through eight layers
Of cheesecloth
Because I happen to be boobs
But also legs
And here’s to you, Colin Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
So over the river and through the woods
To grandmother’s bank’s collateral
Make a nice sandwich for the X
With a little too much banana
Of the second kind
What kind of insurance is that
About as much as the Natives had
Is it deductible when your
Sons go to war to pay for it
While Falwell watches
Well tell the Weekly World News
Carl and Bob showed me that
Harambe comes loudly
In the multiverse
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