What I Am

    Fred Sanford's on at 12

    & I'm standing in the express lane （cash only）

    about to buy Head & Shoulders

    the white people shampoo， no one knows

    what I am. My name could be Lamont.

    George Clinton wears colors like Toucan Sam，

    the Froot Loop pelican. Follow your nose，

    he says. But I have no nose， no mouth，

    so you tell me what's good， what's god，

    what's funky. When I stop

    by McDonalds for a cheeseburger， no one

    suspects what I am. I smile at Ronald's poster，

    perpetual grin behind the pissed-off， fly-girl

    cashier I love. Where are my goddamn fries？

    Ain't I American？ I never say， Niggaz

    in my poems. My ancestors didn't

    emigrate. Why would anyone leave

    their native land？ I'm thinking about shooting

    some hoop later on. I'll dunk on everyone

    of those niggaz. They have no idea

    what I am. I might be the next Jordan

    god. They don't know if Toni Morrison

    is a woman or a man. Michael Jackson

    is the biggest name in showbiz. Mamma se

    Mamma sa mamma ku sa， sang the Bushmen

    in Africa. I'll buy a dimebag after the game，

    me & Jody. He says， Fuck them white people

    at work， Man. He was an All-American

    in high school. He's cool， but he don't know

    what I am， & so what. Fred Sanford's on

    in a few & I got the dandruff-free head

    & shoulders of white people & a cheeseburger

    belly & a Thriller CD & Nike high tops

    & slavery's dead & the TV's my daddy——

    You big Dummy！

    Fred tells Lamont.