a country song came on
about a chicken fried on a Friday night,
and I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic
hearing this tune by Zac Brown Band,
thinking on times when I used to clean Emporia stalls
in the old run-down Emporia mall
I miss that lil ol racist town.
There’s a thrilling irony
concerning constant opposition directed at my position,
that I must admit is toxic,
but the reality remains the same
all the way out here in the DMV
because today I was called racist
by a young Asian co-worker
for being the first black guy she’s met
to have never had relations with a white woman
and prefers to date black women.
I was wrong.
Toxic nostalgia is not what I felt
for the opposition is countering
as I live and breath
and am a black man
no matter where I reside.
So I suppose I simply felt
enjoyment singing along to that country song
about a chicken fry on a Friday night.