Near the counter,
One seat away from a guy named Uncle Sam,
I sat in America’s Unconstitutional Grill,
Notorious for its discrimination special.
Recollections took my psyche traveling
Throughout gripped and whipped generations.
I remembered Sam’s culture-ramming family
Capturing my kin
And reducing them to abused horses
In a round pen.
My temper went from a semiautomatic pistol
To a ballistic missile.
My anger could have leveled
America’s Unconstitutional Grill.
Right before my left was going to punch Sam
So his teeth would meet a dirt heap
‘Neath some table’s feet,
Non-Caucasian children came in.
They ordered cheeseburgers.
A spoiled-cream-distasteful waitress,
Wearing a hairnet,
Said, “The Grill did not get
The School Budget Tomato Sauce yet.”
Judging from the way
Their liveliness took a graveyard turn,
Non-Caucasian children did learn
Unconcern made their meals burn.
According to other non-Caucasian patrons,
There was not much pepper
In the House and Senate stew.
Non-Caucasian patrons spat discontent
Over the cop-frisked pork biscuits
Accompanying assorted penal-smelly vittles.
Seconds from leaving America’s Unconstitutional Grill,
Despite my refusal to select a speck,
The waitress tossed me a check.
After I tabulated
I told the ashy cashier,
“Get the damn owners to atone
And reimburse for every year
My people spent here.”
Bob McNeil, writer, editor, and spoken word artist, is the author of Verses of Realness. Hal Sirowitz, a Queens Poet Laureate, called the book “A fantastic trip through the mind of a poet who doesn’t flinch at the truth.” Among Bob’s recent accomplishments, he found working on Lyrics of Mature Hearts to be a humbling experience because of the anthology’s talented contributors. Copies of that collection are available here: https://amzn.to/3bU8Loi.