Billy Bob,
came home from his first day of high school,
the new
progressive
Rachel Maddow High School,
down the road.
he was full of new
ideas
in his puttylike brain.
he sat
at the dinner
table and asked me,
dad,
do you know we are living
on stolen land,
and that
our ancestors were slave
owners.
native Americans
used to live
here until we slaughtered
them
and gave them
blankets full of
measles.
this country was built on
immigrants,
and now ICE is trying to kidnap
them
and take them away.
who will pick
our tomatoes come spring?
i don't want to be white anymore either.
we should by
a tanning machine.
we're bad people.
i asked him
to pass me the butter,
then spread
it across a nice warm slice
of a baguette.
and, he said,
also, i don't think i want to be a boy
anymore,
i think i want to be Jane.
if i wrestle girls on the girls team,
i think i can
win.
okay, okay, i told him,
we'll talk it over
with your mother
when she gets back from her yoga class
and wine tasting.
by the way,
what's with the big black framed
glasses you have on,
i asked him.
you don't wear glasses.
oh, everyone wears them at this school.
they gave them to us
when we came through
the door.
they look great, i love the Woody Allen
look. you look smarter.
so what's on the agenda tomorrow?
your second day.
the whole school
is going on a protest march
downtown,
so no school.
that's great, i told him, great.
maybe bring
an umbrella and a gas mask.
the national guard will be there,
and it might rain.
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