Coca-Colonialism - DBUK

I was willed this front porch

From my American kin

We rode it over three counties

On top of four old Coca-Cola cans

I took two old soda cans

I cut them in half

Put them on my porch chair legs

So my porch I will not scratch

My American children ask

Why we can’t wear cans on our legs

You’re young, children

No harm will come when you’re American made

«Father, do that thing you do»

I put the soda within

I shift the can halves, wobble my chair

Then let the Coke drip down my chin

The wet streams down my front

It stains itself on my blouse

I hear my children being silent

Then as one, they let out a shout

«It looks like America

Did it fall out of your mouth?»

I can feel my joke start to stick to my skin

This stain’s not coming out

Now I take my soda

And spit more on myself

Let it land on my groin

I call this the South

It’s South America

Down between my thighs

If you’ve ever been there

Then you know that I do not lie

They take their Hot Wheels

And run it over my skin

From Galveston to North Dakota

My children run it under my chin

They say we need more America

There’s no more state around

So I take more soda, put it on my chin

And let it fall, fall about

Well I keep going

I pour more sugar down my back

I tell them it’s Europe, Iceland, and Hong Kong

I don’t know no more than that

Wherever there is Coke stains

Consider that your car’s land

I got many more cola and plenty dry clothes

Because I’m American

We are American

You are American

They run their Hot Wheels

Over my skin

After I removed America

My children say, «Do it again»

I let the Coke drip down my chin

I let the Coke drip down