If you thought that I was an emaciated, syphalitic preteen Vietnamese prostitute
This poem would make no sense to you.
Or if you thought that I was a balding, polo-shirted white man
You wouldn't get it.
And if you thought I was an obese chain-smoking lesbian ex-nun
You would be closer, but it would pass you by.
But if you thought that I was a shrivelled old black woman with too much money and a pocket-full of hate
Then, honey, you'd be right on.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Brilliant and biting. Stirring, insightful!
I am convinced it really is Nikki Giovanni - her style is so unique and impossible to emulate.
Well, my last comment was most assuredly racist-leaning (and all-too telling).
Still, I'd much prefer a band by the name "White Snake" (lead singer named "Niki") to the poetry of this Giovani fellow.
I am not sure I get it, but it did make me smile. Anybody else you are not?
Panda,
I have to channel Nikki... hold on a second...
If you thought I was a toe-sucking political consultant with a penchant for bad haircuts...
If you thought I was a red-haired bodybuilder from Surinam...
If you thought I was a pale blonde tweed-wearing afficianado of 19th century detective stories with a cracked tortoiseshell monocle, a walrus moustache, and a mother-of-pearl walking stick...
If you thought I was a lanky and flaxen-headed penguin-tamer at the Oklahoma City Zoo...
Whew! I'm glad that's over. Channeling Nikki always leaves me nauseated and with a strange compulsion to purchase teal silk pajamas.
Post a Comment