AMERICA’S UNCONSTITUTIONAL GRILL
By Bob McNeil
Near the counter,
One seat away from a guy named Uncle Sam,
I sat in America’s Unconstitutional Grill,
Notorious for its discrimination special.
Recollections took my psyche traveling
Throughout gripped and whipped generations.
I remembered Sam’s culture-ramming family
Capturing my kin
And reducing them to abused horses
In a round pen.
My temper went from a semiautomatic pistol
To a ballistic missile.
My anger could have leveled
America’s Unconstitutional Grill.
Right before my left was going to punch Sam
So his teeth would meet a dirt heap
‘Neath some table’s feet,
Non-Caucasian children came in.
They ordered cheeseburgers.
A spoiled-cream-distasteful waitress,
Wearing a hairnet,
Said, “The Grill did not get
The School Budget Tomato Sauce yet.”
Judging from the way
Their liveliness took a graveyard turn,
Non-Caucasian children did learn
Unconcern made their meals burn.
According to other non-Caucasian patrons,
There was not much pepper
In the House and Senate stew.
Non-Caucasian patrons spat discontent
Over the cop-frisked pork biscuits
Accompanying assorted penal-smelly vittles.
Seconds from leaving America’s Unconstitutional Grill,
Despite my refusal to select a speck,
The waitress tossed me a check.
After I tabulated
I told the ashy cashier,
“Get the damn owners to atone
And reimburse for every year
My people spent here.”