heading back Downtown

What are you?
You're not me
  not Polish, not Chinese, not Italian
  this body? thought? or feeling?
  not Native 
  not American
Who is this predecessor?
this identity? a cab in Chicago rain
Where is your allegiance?
not to country
not cognition
origin
your ethnicity? a winter coat
belong to each corner of your mind
belong to flow and nectar
What are you
in the midnight hour?
when warm center is heated up
and the sounds creep in
merciless silence a dying Grandmother
You're not me #4 Bus
next sop 47th st
next stop Identity Illusion
Homeland,
Father, Where Are You?
What Are You, Now
that your body is surely gone
...four years of decay
Is your spirit juicy in the air?
or a poetic line from the daughter you left behind?
Who are you Hamza Walker?
swearing at the top of your lungs
in the Renaissance Society
laughing & clapping, laughing & clapping
You are not me
when I hear Nina
when I smell good garlic
when I wait for hands
next stop 23rd st
next stop Cermak
                Stop
          this reality
        & that structure
      Create something out
                of nothing
                Seek the Prince
              of Peace
            down by the riverside
      Remember Guthrie at that wooden table
      Sonny Terry sucking on that harmonica
      slapping that harmonica
      swaying and making music
      making music and scooping the self
The Self, a leashed dog
in a Pittsburgh suburb,
Yeah, you're not Polish...