I could be driving across America
and my car could fail (very easily,
considering me and cars)
and I could be surrounded
by strong clean white Americans

the men scowling at me seriously,
ready to tell me what God said
about Car Maintenance

the women studying me sternly,
ready to tell me what God said
about Clean Underwear

and I could turn the ignition key
one more time, in desperation,
and they could turn.
be children,
afraid among chaos,
lonely inside their skulls

and I couldn't drive over them after all

could I?


Anitra's Sampler

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