by Brad Horton
I crossed at the border|
and no one questioned me
me, an American, outside of America
I crossed at the border
and they questioned me
me, an American, inside America
where were you born?
in a hospital, cut from my mother
and again in the desert, cut from my mother
what is your job?
freedom fighter, but
I'm not sure if I fight for or against it
where do you live?
in a house, that border crossers built
Why were you not in America?
Because I am an American.
What's that supposed to mean?
turn on the news.
Copyright © 2007 - Brad Horton
Published: 6/28/07 · Author's Page · Next Poem