Hey Columbus! by Thomas Hubbard
You step out of your sport utility vehicle and begin fueling on pump number three while I finish up on pump number four. You eye my braid, my old car, my flute bag in the rear window, and that expression comes onto your pale, clean-shaven face. You seem upset that I don't shuffle, step aside, show embarrassment about my dark skin, and why must I have feathers in plain view? You are