eating green hamburger
& ketchup spaghetti,
my head resting on my hand &
my elbow on the table.
never knew it was common practice
to have matching silverware, plates,
bowls & cups.
shocking to see people nonchalantly
dumping food in the trash.
dump half-a-pouch of cheese-dust
in a pot of macaroni,
a little extra butter makes it
taste a little better.
so what if the noodles don't match
next time.
have you ever noticed that grease
is always cheaper?
half-packet kool-aid with a quarter
cup sugar.
lightly colored water with a little
bit of sweet.
now we're hitting the big time.
saggy almost empty blue bird sacks
of
dried apricots, peaches, squash,
meat & corn.
stupid chickens with their heads
cut off running down the hill.
rabbits squealing as you cut through
that soft, downy fur.
what flaming-bureaucratic-hula-hoops
must we jump through to get a little
food in the last winter months before spring?
take a deep breath, take off that
purple coat.
you should feel shame, the hot
eyes condemning you,
as your trembling hand signs the
government document
that says, "Yes. I am a loser."
too bad there's no space on that
triplicate form
where you could save face.
where you could beg forgiveness.
...for being born so far away from
Wall Street,
& the white faces on the bills
don't recognize you.
they don't reproduce into more
bills,
giving you twins & triplets
like a beloved sheep does.
peel some wrinkled, squishy potatoes
stomach churning around crookedly,
all stuck together.
ever noticed it's a lot easier
to pop potato eyes out
when there are vines growing out
of them?
believe it or not, you can still
smile when you're hungry.
you can still be loved when you
wear fifty-cent salvation army pants.
my nalii loved us when we were
poor.
our angel with coiled-braid bun
& flowered dresses
with patch pockets in the front,
always green or blue.
she would break the droning monotony
of being broke.
bringing cranberries, bananas,
prunes, sardines & other odd foodstuffs.
it may sound sad, it may sound like
i'm whining,
but i can stand tall, all five-foot-one
of me, & my feet will carry me anywhere.
second hand clothes from the flea
market are just as good as Fubu,
and yes, i can still eat green
hamburger & ketchup spaghetti.
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