I’m thinking of a word,
“un-American,” as it applies
to me — no. It doesn’t
apply to me —

despite the fact of
the red hand stuck fast
to the window of my car,
the letters “MMIW” below that;

it doesn’t apply to me;
who else but an American
would dare put that on their car?
Who else has the need to learn it?

Two cars — a blackout Tesla
and a huge black Ramcharger —
pass me by, their “Trump 2024”
stickers prominent on their windows.

Me in the small grey wagon,
the Subaru, right behind;
I shake with my anger for a moment.
it doesn’t make me un-American,

it doesn’t make me want to fight.
Unless it’s this way — vicariously;
in my head. Then it’s game on,
let ’em have it, let them suffer;

or not. Maybe they’d laugh
and drive away. I’d be stuck here
arguing for my side of the story.
Don’t want to seem un-American.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T