I looked up from my computer
When I heard the putt putt of the scooter
I knew this was how the demise of our happy neighborhood would begin
Because the whites are moving in
They will loudly play their podcasts on crime
They will hold brunch during church time
They will hike on trails where none of us have been
How are we going to handle it when the whites move in?
They will stink up the neighborhood with their imported artisan cheese
They’ll ask us to watch their little dog during their four times a year trips to Disney
The Amazon drivers will deliver to their houses four times a day and it will begin
As soon as the whites move in
They will sit on their porch sipping tea and eating almond scones and croissants
That they got from an overpriced farm to table restaurant.
They never throw out their crap and will hold weekly yard sales selling old shoes out of a bin
That’s what happens when the whites move in
We’ll invite them over for a beer and they will ask for a micro brew
They’ll put a American flag and balls on the back of a truck with a bumper sticker about the Hong Kong flu
They will talk about golf, and pickleball saying victory is all in the spin
That’s what we will have to put up with when the whites move in
If you want us to give you a chance
Don’t fly the flag that says Trump and Vance
They will thump their Bible and complain of society’s sin
While voting for the man candidate that has committed the most, when the white move in
Barbeques with food cooked inside
Kids on bikes in the driveway the only spot they are allowed to ride
Loud Thanksgiving dinner with their kin
There goes the neighborhood, the whites are moving in
We like your poem and are as upset as you are about the election.
ReplyDeleteHA! That was a good one with a perfect ending!
ReplyDeleteGreat job on the poem. XO
ReplyDeleteYou might need to move neighbourhood. Or even country.
ReplyDeletehugs to you and to your country...sigh...
ReplyDeleteOnce again, making Darwin proud - prouder - proudest -
ReplyDeleteand yes, we are beyond disappointed in Tuesday's clusterphuck - but have added a 6th stage of grieving - where we are out of phucks and let them feel the pains they caused themselves - and then get to smirk/smile at 'em
H&K&W
Willow
We do like your poem, first smile in all the bad news.
ReplyDeleteRosie and Redford
Howdy Ruby! That was a long poem. I didn't get one done.
ReplyDeleteChaplin: "We just noticed the Canadian flag on the scooter! Our brother Tucker was Canadian! Maybe the refrigerator is full of maple syrup?"
ReplyDelete