Born Americano

Born Americano

Texas migrant shack,
dirt floor beneath the bed.
Born Americano!

My Mother Americana,
My Father, sin papeles
until he buys, the Green Card,
now free
to work the fields with his children.

Detached from my roots,
like an onion pulled from a hot
Texas field.

Adapted without full benefits
no access to tools,
that make me relevant.

Inwardly white,
an Oreo a coconut
yet color coded by race.

Born Americano!

My Mother Americana,
My Father, sin papeles
until he buys, the Green Card,
now free
to work the fields with his children.

Altered and absorbed by American ways,
my heroes fly, they are tall, they are white,
y no se habla Español

Born Americano!

My Mother Americana
My Father, sin papeles
until he buys, the Green Card,
now free
to work the fields with his children.

I come from a line
that left the other behind,
to cross a bridge, to ford a river,
chasing the help wanted sign
From California to the New York island
From the Redwood Forest, to the gulf stream waters
picking crops for you, and me and born Americano.

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