Export: Writing the Midwest
Brian Thao Worra
Song for a Sansei
I remember her story
Of a white life
That took some getting used to.
White family. White holidays. White food:
Codfish, cauliflower, vanilla pudding, potatoes and
Gravy, poultry, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
A life of snow in which
I, too, find the mirror of I Am
Not necessarily followed by “made of”
Perhaps simply, coincidentally, “among, with love,”
That you can’t help in a world like this
I’d meditate more on her graying words
But the jazz-soaked bartender at the edge of this dark room
Is reminding me
We only get 5 minutes each
To talk about our own yellow lifetimes.
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