What is the versatile autobiography <br />of this bountiful of rice <br />boiling in my American kitchen? <br /> <br />This crop of microscopic slabs of grain <br />that was the one edible source <br />of preventing my ancestors' emaciation <br /> <br />One of such few things <br />connecting me <br />to my roots, <br />those things I can't help but bleach <br />in whitewashed and rebellious peroxide. <br /> <br />I will valiantly hang my head down low in shame <br />at the examples of my flesh and earth, <br />'those National Geographic cavemen, ' <br />all the time being the zoo animal, <br />being blindfolded and caged by <br />these secular, American liberals. <br /> <br />I love this food <br />that I consume like a vacuum, <br />this merengue and bachata <br />that I so happily shake my ass to; <br />but nowhere did I sign up <br />for these commandments <br />that I was appointed <br />based on the location <br />that I popped out onto.<br /><br />Pedro Tejada<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/two-weeks-notice-from-a-hispanic-rebel/
