Why Don’t You Listen to Me?

Why Don’t You Listen to Me?
Christopher Bogart

Why is your colonial a house
And mine, a hacienda?

We both call them home.

When I listen to you
I don’t hear Brooklyn,
Atlanta,
Dallas,
Or Maine.

When I speak,
Why do you always seem to hear
Guadalajara or San Juan?

We were both born in the same hospital,
In the same town,
In the same state,
In the same country.

So

When you can look at me
And not see
lettuce pickers,
Field hands,
House cleaners,
Landscape workers,
Or hired help
You pick up at the train station
At the crack of dawn;

then

Then I won’t look at you
And think of Wall Street brokers,
Ponzi schemes,
The INS,
The KKK, or
Country clubs you would never let me join.

Every day I listen to you,
I hear you loud and clear.

Why don’t you listen to me?