The Last Hot Dog
I have black skin
I am Aboriginal
I am fifteenth in line in a hot dog cue
Happy with my lot
The proprietor yells move the black guy up
Or he won’t get a hotdog
I’ll run out before his turn
I have but thirteen left
And
The racial card will be played
No doubt
My business does not need that
I moved up
To the front of the queue
The proprietor said can I help you sir
I said thirteen hotdogs please
Placed my money on the counter
Then walked away
To do business elsewhere
Appetite satisfied
About this poem
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“The Last Hot Dog”
Written and Published by Paul Buttigieg
- Published:
- June 25th, 2011
- Category:
- Aboriginal Poems
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