Captain America

 

To me being an American means 

Learning how to blame yourself 

To feel some semblance of control

Because asking for help 

Is a pointless humiliation ritual

It means saying “I’m grateful” 

Like a password

Before you order a burrito bowl

While the screen keeps you company

Like a sleazy casino host who knows all of your weaknesses

It’s living in a surveillance state that also somehow 

Has 80% unsolved murders

Everything is a trial: 

Your innocence, your worth, your right to be tired

It’s knowing your government would murder you 

In cold blood and still getting the good kind of chills 

When the anthem hits at a stadium

It’s about watching children get deported in zip ties 

And then paying $90 to watch Captain America with your own kids

It’s about calling Sydney Sweeny 

Racist at noon

Totally forgetting about it by dinner

Then by dessert the ugliest men you’ve ever seen in your life 

Are back to arguing if she’s hot or mid like nothing happened

America is a broken family 

That half assembles every year for Thanksgiving

Like IKEA furniture

With everyone insisting the wobble is

“Just how it is”