(Or The Fiction We Tell Ourselves)
$300 and two suitcases each
sarees became skirts
kurtas became cufflinks
sure, there were struggles
insensitive questions, side comments
but we blend in
we become appealing
models, even
now every time we go back home
we bring along the spoils
of the New World
Because we are “the rich ones”
that’s the American Dream
$20 and a pack of cigarettes
a knee on the neck
a face pressed to the pavement
sure, the bill was fake
drug usage, perceived aggression
but his life is gone
he became a symbol
a martyr, even
now every time I talk about home
I realize it is spoiled with the legacy
of the Old World
rich with unjustified violence
that’s the American reality
built upon a contract
sworn to protect all
is the equality we claim
real
or just the fiction we tell ourselves
to avoid what’s actually
real?
