Now would be the time to craft carefully worded comebacks
designed to slice cleanly and precisely
through those snide remarks
by the three rotund, interchangeable, red-faced
white Southern boss hogs with thin white hair.
They won’t even feel the cut
or notice the corpses of their comments until I walk away
an apparition they didn’t realize was sentient and seething
as they swapped stories of driving drunk for fun
and the local sheriff letting them go for the simple virtue of their whiteness
let them drive away
a car full of teenagers heading towards the county stock show where
they met the same same sheriff at the door
who raced ahead just to see if they could make it there in one piece.
They hitch their belts
they order another round from the two bartenders-of-color
who graciously meet their requests
which makes the rotund, interchangeable, red-faced boss hogs
of the freshman members of the House of Representatives.
“Those idiots” as they refer to the young, scrappy women-of-color
I want to point out
drove drunk for show-offy fun
laughing at never facing the consequences.
Ouch. Burn. Good One.
In my head, I walk away with my head held high
as the boss hogs’ jowls swing low.
Instead I am rolling over and snuggling deep into the covers
safe and secure.
Free from consequences.
I really let them have it, didn’t I?
So clever, they don’t even know.