On The Language of Possession
I said to a white guy, a friend,
"How are you doing, my man?"
and he answered as courtesy required.
I said to a black guy, a friend,
"How's your day, my man?"
and I winced at my insensitivity,
my lack of discretion.
He, hardly noticing, answered
as courtesy required.
In the first a bond, of sorts,
In the second a reeking bondage
caught in the language of possession.
In the first a recognition,
In the second, a forgiveness
bestowed as one to another
we know, we are all just human.