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

 

and man,

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.

 

Turns out,

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.

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