This is a poem about a man
Wearing a Trump hat
At Disneyland
I thought, if you’re here
Your America probably is great
This tribute to kids, capitalism and Mickey Mouse
Where no one has to worry about losing their house
Where Black Lives Don’t matter
Where riding on rollercoasters you dream of Donald’s wall
But outside, it’s not so great
Men of colour are shot in these streets
1 in 7 families don’t have enough to eat
And you’re chewing on Disney treats
Smiling as you stand,
Acrid grape soda and a bulbous wife in hand
You want the immigrants banned but what you don’t know is that they grow those American grapes
While you wait in line for Space Mountain.
You get to the water fountain and an employee called Juan asks if he can fill your bottle.
He’s from Venezuela and he knows you hate him.
You think that he’s probably racist towards fat, white men.
And right then? I wish I could tell you that he pays more tax than Amazon, gives more to his town than Starbucks – but I give up.
You’re more interested in your wife’s liposuction than American Immigrant Economic Production.
As the last of the Summer Soda
Slurps through the straw like a rattling corpse, Juan smiles, and I hear you say:
"Bloody Mexicans. I wish we could make American Great Again."
Wearing a Trump hat
At Disneyland
I thought, if you’re here
Your America probably is great
This tribute to kids, capitalism and Mickey Mouse
Where no one has to worry about losing their house
Where Black Lives Don’t matter
Where riding on rollercoasters you dream of Donald’s wall
But outside, it’s not so great
Men of colour are shot in these streets
1 in 7 families don’t have enough to eat
And you’re chewing on Disney treats
Smiling as you stand,
Acrid grape soda and a bulbous wife in hand
You want the immigrants banned but what you don’t know is that they grow those American grapes
While you wait in line for Space Mountain.
You get to the water fountain and an employee called Juan asks if he can fill your bottle.
He’s from Venezuela and he knows you hate him.
You think that he’s probably racist towards fat, white men.
And right then? I wish I could tell you that he pays more tax than Amazon, gives more to his town than Starbucks – but I give up.
You’re more interested in your wife’s liposuction than American Immigrant Economic Production.
As the last of the Summer Soda
Slurps through the straw like a rattling corpse, Juan smiles, and I hear you say:
"Bloody Mexicans. I wish we could make American Great Again."