American Dreaming

I used to dream of horses

running wild and rampant through the night

In a ranch that I’d own nearby

my old style Victorian home

the front lawn would be the brightest green and there’d be an apple tree

with manicured leaves

in the back yard they’d be a pool and my husband would smile as he grilled good old hotdogs and hamburgers nearby

and I would bake good ol’ American pie and place it in the windowsill

and our children one boy and one girl aged exactly two years apart

would run and splash and play as the sun glistened off their perfectly brown skin

and they’d be the best behaved

revered by their teachers and held by their peers

and they’d be a dog too

the purest of breeds

envied as he accumulated accolades at the pet shows

and our names Dick and Jane

would hold much prestige throughout the neighborhood

and our family

my family

would be the picture of perfection

these are the things that I used to dream

before I realized that

blue skies and apple pies aren’t really meant for little black girls with brown eyes

see before I dreamed

my reality was written for me

I’m supposed to grow up in a broken family

a single mother and my brother

ho’s going to raise us on damnation of our father

and my grandmother she’ll try to step in but to no avail

because broken hearted is how I’m going to grow up in this hail

because my value will be found

in my hips lips and thighs

never look me in the eye

because those are windows to the soul

and it doesn’t quite matter does it

you see

I’m supposed to be at the bottom of the totem pole

broke ,black, and bitter

and ‘ll never marry

just carry seeds of used to be kings

and no brother wants me

and to date a white man is blasphemy

so alone I’ll

men are going to rotate

one by one and the third spin

I will twins and one the way

and y children ill be of ill refute, ill raise, just plain bad as hell

and misbehave and the horses I’d train would simply be a mane

of brightly colored weave meant to deceive

no old style home for me

no just a GED and EBT

and my name’s not Jane

though I may know a lot of dicks

doesn’t matter what my name is

just call me

little. black. bitch.

or he

or thot

sees there’s a lot they tell you that I can’t have and can’t do

because my skin is of a darker hue

but these American dreams

I refuse to buy

because

I still believe in blue skys and apple pies