Regarding White Privilege

1.
Walk out your front door
and into the street.
Look up and there it is:
your sun, won
on the last hand last night; the jerk
told you it would be yours in the morning
as soon as he could get to the bank
and the safety deposit box;
now he’s gone and there it is
hanging over you, out of reach.

At least you know it’s yours
even though it’s beyond command;
you can always trust the word
of a fellow gambler, after all.

2.
This sun of yours
crosses over myth
as you watch.
Do you own the myth as well?

3.
A street’s only as good
as its sidewalks:
having a pair of solid paths to parallel the main line
is crucial.  Places
to walk safely, more slowly
than the primary traffic.
A curb against which
to butt tires,
or crush jaws.

4.
Take your rabid imagination
to the street, stare
at your possession
and decide to own everything
it illuminates as well…

5.
In fact, this sun
belongs to no one,
lights everyone’s road,
warms every face.

Your deed to it has only the weight
of a shared perception
that it’s a valid deed.

The paper burns when the rays pinpoint upon it.

6.
Night follows day.

You made no bet
regarding the moon.