White Trash Woman

White Trash Woman

I am white trash woman, America
And that’s why I am comfortable with you.
I spent my childhood in trailer courts,
On redwood porches singin' old country,
Grandma and her electric guitar playin' Elvis.
I’ve had my best friends imaginary in a world of woods –lost.

We have picked collared greens for nostalgia.
Grandma tellin’ me about the West Virginia of her youth almost like I been there.
I have picked blackberries with a vision of seedy sweetness on my lips.
I know the magick of watercress for high blood sugar, seen the luck in cabbage,
And I have cornbread and beans at the bottom of my soul.

I’ve been to your rich schools and heard your bitch talk, grew out my feathered bangs,
Let down my ponytail, thrown away crumbling blue shadows.
I’ve given up my dreams of electric youth for resurrection.
Then find my cousins young and pregnant,
Waitressing and spending honeymoons in “Spring Valley Trailer Park.”

I’ve been to tailgate parties after football games,
Seen the dawn from the bed of a pickup truck.
I’ve spent good times in drive-ins, at concession stands,
And I remember ET cracklin’ in my ears like it was yesterday.
I’ve caught the cat fish we fried for lunch,
And known the sweetness of venison in winter.

War for us is the hush at the kitchen table,
Johnny’s silent picture on the mantle.
I’ve never been to your fancy restaurants to hear
Violins and use more than one fork.
Grandma taught us one was more than enough,
And Great-Granddaddy’s fiddle was a Stradivarius.

I have had my head scraped for lice,
Eaten peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwiches when there was nothin’ else.
I have lived and I have breathed steel mills
And paper factories too America.
I have learned compassion.