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Bananas and Oreos

I have been here so long

I feel like I am from here.

I am a banana, but

I haven’t always been one.


I was an alien.

Foreign and strange

Everything seemed,

Like a transplanted organ.


Summer weekday afternoon,

Empty street save moving van,

Having preceded our stuff

On this intercontinental journey.

Sitting on the front lawn,

I am distracted from the movers

By an approaching black boy.

I look up at the looming figure

Whose head is eclipsing the sun.

He hands me an envelope,

Inviting me to his birthday party,

Pointing out his house across the street

Before returning from whence he came.

I run excitedly into my house.


On appointed day and time

I am accompanied to the house.

I ring the doorbell, eliciting hurried footsteps.

The black boy opens the door.

Behind him stand two white men

Whom my friend introduces as his two dads.


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