What Makes an Amerikan?

You can’t be an AmeriKan
unless you’ve learned
to purse your lips,
to avert your eyes,
to snub your nose at someone else.

It’s in the presentation of the flag,
woven in the stripes,
each one a ladder rung
to a place above other’s heads,
the ones beneath left for those
still grasping,
stretching,
yearning to reach the top.

You can’t be an AmeriKan
unless you’ve felt the Weight of Privilege
heavy on your shoulders—
the burden of entitlement
to always stand higher,
no matter the consequence.

It’s in the license granted by the premise:
“Work hard,
you’ll make it;
but first,
keep your boot on their necks.”

So look down on those who don’t have.
It’s Your Right to Lord
their skin,
their words,
their means,
their dreams.
But remember keep your distance,
don’t ever get too close.

You can’t be an AmeriKan
unless you have others to shame,
to jeer at to the stars,
while their claims are forgotten,
lost in the rabble of an underclass,
fated never to rise.

Being an AmeriKan is
the “climb,”
the view from the top,
the fitted crown—
and the thrill of stepping on another’s back
to “prove” you’ve made it.