I wrote this poem in 2006. police aren’t the only ones who profile.
Apology to the man at the KFC/Taco Bell Drive Through
I gaze at your car in front of mine
I’m thinking bout what I want to order
Bean burrito or chicken taco?
Seven layer burrito?
Naw/ cuz sometimes the cheese be too cold
I settle on a bean burrito
Then you roll down your window
Mouth something I don’t understand
I presume you are trying to holla
You know
spit some game
so I avert my eyes
shrung my shoulders/ say: “It’s Okay. I have a boyfriend” through my windshield
You continue to talk
I continue to ignore
You finally open the car door/ yell:
“Ay! They only got chicken thighs and legs left. No taco Bell or nothing else. Can you back up so can get out?!”
I absorb the information like a reluctant sponge
I was wrong
You didn’t want my number
I confused your white tee with the man who called me
a Little Red Riding Hood Bitch/when I didn’t give him my digits on Telegraph
I confuse your car with the team of men in the Buick last May/ who followed my white cutlass
after I said I didn’t want to talk to them/ raced me like we were in a NASCAR championship
I won
I confused your indecipherable words with ones like “Ay Girl, Can I be yo’ friend?”
with the whistles/ the awkward gas station encounters
with the time in Hilltop mall when I was cornered by a group of teenagers who want my number/ I silently smile/ walk away/ followed by their complements of “She aint that cute anyway”
But these men aren’t you
you just wanted to eat/ not holla
so
to you at the KFC/TACO Bell Drive Through
I apologize
Next time I will
listen