It was mine the moment my Mom chose my Dad.
Families go way back.
Sharing this same faith (at
least it looks that way) (at
least that's what you said then).
Decisions made in childhood
trickle down through my hometown.
You didn't see me at the country club,
but, sure.
I can shout about the power that sours on
color on cue at the view of a brother
approaching as you clutch your Coach.
Sure, but
no routine traffic stop
will look like a butcher shop when
my white skin absolves me of my minor violations.
Without
hesitation
let off with a warning in pen that only writes in white.
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