I am of lower class, a shame and have friends and family that you cannot bring home. You will never bring me home. I will never make enough money or own enough anything because I always give it away. Born from a grim heritage. You will have to disalign yourself from me often. Hide me from your mother and father. Don’t let them see my mud boots, my EBT card, my track record of having gathered up my life with my own two hands, rebuilding it from the ground up, rebuilding it with 2,3,4 jobs. Split shifts, graveyard shifts, selling shoes, stripping, cage dancing, playing the good girl under the desk in the corporate world, playing pretend, giving the border patrol my panties, sleeping in the hidden rooms at the embassy. My nails are dirty. I laugh with hard women, we drink cheap wine, work on the farm. Poor and unproud we eat with our hands here. Skin animals, pluck our own birds, it is true. I have bad ways. My mother and her 4 sisters ate raw liver, raw meat. Cussed like sailors and taught me how to haul ass, shoot guns. I am a crude one, so don’t name drop, I am dumb to it anyways, not caring who’s who or where it’s all suppose to be or what the latest fashion is. Someone laughed at me last year, I didn’t know what a “coach” was. I spat, choked, rubbed the mucus from my nose hearing of how much maza is spent on a purse. I had asked if it was brain tanned. Disremember me. You don’t know me, ever. An animal, I fight day and night for my children’s freedom and safety. Dark skinned and careful we can’t laugh any more with your kind. The spirit eater is out here.