hellocentral

The Racial Profiling Poem.

the nose knows
and the hair grows
it's apparent in your appearance
it's written in the sand
in the lines on your face
your intention shows
when you give them
the same damn water
from the river
flowing past your house
where you make your home
in a cup crafted
by local artisan hands
which will never touch ground
in those foreign lands
you roam around.
but once the mark is made-
you know the rest.
and to think
it's as simple
as flicking a light switch
and sending in the mexican maids
to clean up the mess.