And then, America wore kente cloth and took a knee,
said it was starting a conversation.
And then, America sent Mexico an(other) ultimatum,
assured that the Postal Service could deliver without additional funding.
And then, America sneezed on door handles in the hood,
pledging to beat the world to herd immunity.
And then, America paid California prisoners in fresh air,
telling them the ability to feel something is transformative.
And then, America declared reparations divisive,
suggested snowflakes should try double knotting their bootstraps.
And then, America opened the porch door for Russia,
allowed them to keep their shoes on in the house.
And then, America said Blackness is defined by the ballot you cast,
ending the debate on who can say nigga.
And then, America said the path to liberation has terms and conditions,
reminded us that reading is fundamental before the curfew began.
And then, America opined about Nero and the Great Fire,
decided history would understand his need for a palace.
And then, America shouted its support for Black lives matter,
suggested only one edit.
And then,
then I am delicately asked to save America from itself;
remembering to wrap my locs in silk first, I sleep through the sunset.
