Poet's Choice

in that vision Americans wish for

their children, and the point is we slipped

into our uniform harmony, and spit out GO TEAM!

our hands stacked on and beneath the hands

of our teammates and that was as close

as I may have come to passing for one

of the members of The Dream, my white friend

thinking I was so far from that word

that he could say it to me, which I guess

he could since I didn't let him taste the salt

and iron in the blood, I didn't teach him

what it's like to squint through a black eye,