Your Socks

We are given shoes - and the cement to walk on
jacket and pants - and the gum to chew on
unwrap the plastic - open the box
Let’s see just how much money we can blow on socks
symbols stitched outward - seams pink and frilly
made in amerikkan sweatshops - made in Vichy Chile
Teresa Marie is nine and has worked here years
fifty cents a day for her blood sweat and tears
she lives in a mud hut with her family’s chickens
and old rusty barrel - a couple flat rocks
home sweet home - here’s Teresa’s kitchen
her father shot by a U.$.-backed dictator
her mother raped by a drunken U.$. soldier
the baby’s half white and starving to death
fifty pennies a day - eight mouths - no milk left
you walk into the store - air conditioned - complaining
she walks in the mud shoeless - sharp rocks - daily
you are proud as apple pie to be an amerikkkan
she has nightmares: “U.$. soldiers are coming to get me”
bigger fatter stitched corporate brand name socks
skinnier jumpier malnourished children walking on rocks
you’re depressed - on medication
but at least you don’t stink
powdered. deoderized - pampered. christianized
you want Jesus to save you - LOL - ya right
behind her hut in an old tree knot
a penny a week out of the several she’s got
a smile lights her face as she turns to cook dinner
her brother needs ammo - revolutionary clandestine U.$. pig killer