You fold into the lapel of your blackness like a handkerchief into a suit pocket.
You place your whiteness in a dish on the side.
I am at the St. Regis.
You are walking around the White House like a donkey,
Kicking your legs up into liberal ideology like you want to hoof
And dance with made-up beneficent thoughts.
You are a majorette leading a band of praise for yourself.
The maître d told me that you once dined here.
He said you were a snob.
He said you brought three chefs with you like your taste buds
Were sacred and you were eating Allah’s strictness.
We were embarrassed by putting Japanese in camps in World War II.
I am embarrassed that after 9/11 we selected a president of Moslem descent.
Forgiveness is a fault that leads to redundant terror.
You dance in your self-approbation like a mirror that has fallen in love with itself.
You have left your country in the garbage bin in the men’s room.
You tell the urinal that you want to give it its fair share.
You say that you are watching out for the middle class while you toss
It beneath the table.
The crumbs you have dropped form a picture on the rug of our future.
America is no longer exceptional.
It is an offshoot of Obama’s utopian failures.
I wish I had Obama’s good posture.
He has put too much unnecessary weight on my shoulders.
I wish I had his smile.
I want to hide in the satirical grin of his rigor mortis.
The views expressed in this opinion article are solely those of their author and are not necessarily either shared or endorsed by EagleRising.com