Not U.S.
By Chris Martinez

I've observed
my dark, new neighbor
who doesn't call the mailman
by his first name.

I've noticed
he doesn't chuckle in the checkout lane
like the square-mouthed plaid dads
or their wicker wives.

I've seen
he doesn't bounce with pony-tail pride
like the spring-heeled sneaker girls
jogging to the gym,
and his reflection doesn't show
in the Abercrombie & Fitch windows.

I've watched
from behind newspaper shields
this foreigner in our midst
- terrorist -
with the rogue notion
of claiming a cup of coffee
in the name of Islam.

Did You Know,
millions of blonde, blue-eyed children
die each day
from the falling of Folgers
to the intifada?

Tell your neighbors and Congressmen:
Palestinian pilgrims
are eating our Wonder Bread.