Politically Correct

It wasn’t really my dream, but my wife’s, she was waxing
the living room floor, had told her many time not to do that,
makes the floor slippery; I think she’s after my money.
A knock on the door, a woman with 8 children said she was
my wife and her children mine; denied all knowledge; she
called me a racist, I took my sunglasses off, yes they were
black. Feeling guilty I was about to offer them shelter when
my wife came, said with my navy pension I couldn’t even
keep a duck in a pond, slammed the door shut in the face of
the ebony lady. “Don’t be a sap; she said, there is no need
to believe people because they are black.” And that’s coming
from a woman born in Kinshasa.

Later that day driving to a masked ball in Haifa, I saw
the poor mother and her children, thought of stopping, but
desisted, 80 sticky fingers in my car...No! In Haifa I drank
fresh orange juice, and tried not to ask impertinent questions
about the plight of Palestine, wore an outsized nose the idea
was to look like roman senator. “Anti Semite” a waiter called
Olmert, thundered and tore it off, refused to serve me until
I repented and said I was deeply sorry for what had happened
to his people. Complied, who says I’m a hero? Looked out of
the window; saw a Gypsy family making slow progress across
the landscape, these victimized and neglected people,
no holocaust shrine for them