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Help Me!

Some people can't help but be crazy nationalists when they are traveling. Americans are always traveling to "poor countries" and saying "how sad" everything is. We travel to reinforce our ideas. When we go to Europe we don't storm the ghettos taking pictures of the poor. We don't go to the ghettos of America to take photographs of the poor. We love to do it on our travels in Asia and Africa. How does the shoe feel on your foot?
Help Me!

When the Asians come to my
They cluck their tongues
And take pictures
"such a shame" they say
"how poor she is"
"how sad, such poverty"
And they take pictures of my children
We were working in the garden
We did not dress up for church
We needed to wear ugly clothing
For such fun rough work
I don't want a gardener
I prefer my hands to be dirty
And without gloves
Planting new plants in the soil.
My children are playing outside
In the afternoon sun.
When they saw the stranger
The weird pity in their eyes,
The strange fork of their tongue
Cutting the jowls of their greedy cheeks
The kids lost their smiles and clung close to the house
The smallest one cried
Showing her crooked gaps between her new teeth.
In the house the fire smoked
Ready for a tasty fresh meal.
We do not eat that much meat
But I hear the meat over their
Eats meat
Even its own sisters mothers fathers brothers
The cow chose it's cud,
I know being American is hard,
With the ghettos, the riots, the poverty everywhere
The terrible storms
The violent rapist athletes
The child pornography rings
But it is hard
When they come from other countries
And touch us
As if we were just beggars on our streets
This is my home.
When guests arrive it is customary to bring
A gift
But when you come you begrudge a child
A coin or candy
You act as if you had never visited
A distant relative before.
You barge in my house,
In my church,
In my shops with out removing your dirt
And without removing your smells
And you say,
"How dirty everyone is"
As if we were not used to your palaces
Of fragrant bleach
And perfumes of animal glands.
When you leave America
And go back to
Vietnam, China, Indonesia,
Bhutan, Nepal, or a wide arc
Of earth
You take the pictures of my kids
And say that we need charity
Fast charity
And that you will only take 1 tip
Of 20% of a donation for yourself
The rest is charity.
I can not understand
With so much photographs
And so much charity
How so much of the world
Is dying in slave camps
And reading for the first time
About America.
America the land
Where immigrants starve
After working 12 hour days
The land of abundant
America of repossessed farm lands
And this equal opportunist employer,
I am sorry you pity me
But when I go to church
I take with me your photograph
And burn a candle for you,
May you have the wisdom
That your god had
And learn to take a beautiful picture.
You haven't any right
To swindle others the way you do.
It is as if every Asian
Wants to storm the ghettos of America
And sell us their religion
Framing our pictures,
How sad. How sad. How sad.