One of the Good Ones
I am uncomfortable
talking about this
I am a nice man
want other people to be happy
and left alone
I want to be happy
and left alone
I am one of the good ones
I don't touch
topics this touchy
avoid them like a group of black kids
laughing in an alley
I smile too much
am too agreeable
a nodding bobblehead wanting
them to know I
am one of the good ones
I treat them the way I would
a hot chick I hope to fuck
a retarded child
a grandmother
on the edge of senility
my knee-
jerk reaction
when people talk in my earshot
but not in my language
how rude
when an accent answers
my phone call to a company
my teeth grind eyes roll
of course
when I peruse
the prices of convenience
store owners
who don't look like me
getting jipped
I am not one
of the good ones
I want to stand
with my fellow man
on the picket lines of humankind
physically not intellectually
in person not in spirit
in solidarity not in show
but I am hyperconscious
of my whiteness
of my history
of my privilege
of my ignorance
of the bigoted heart that beats deep
inside my brain
and treats all persons
that are not this person
as second class citizens
so instead of standing I sit
head buried
in the sand
I want to be happy
and left alone
and still be
one of the good ones
