She’s more American than I will ever be though I
Was born on this bloodied soil.
Sunnier in disposition,
Fluent in the snap, crackle and pop of our culture,
Energized like the bunny to hit the books and make her mark.
Crazy about Italian food, Indian, Chinese, the marvelous buffet
Of this country.
She didn’t ask to be taken from the archipelago of her infancy
To a place brimming with opinions about where she belongs
Like she’s a hat or a teacup or a folding chair.
She was just along for the ride. Wide eyed,
Her mother imagined a future for her beyond dusting black lampshades
on the 23rd floor of an apartment occupied
By a woman who thinks it’s OK to walk
Around in front of the window wearing nothing
But Jimmy Choos.
Who’s fucking with her future now?
Men with skin like cold chicken legs
Who claim you’re robbing them of what has been manifested
By a blue-eyed God.
But she’s still dreaming just like she was when the plane skidded
To a landing on the runway and she startled from her sleep and thought,
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patricia Lawler Kenet is an attorney, journalist and entrepreneur. Her essays have appeared in numerous publications, including The New York Times and Salon.com
She wrote "Winna the Dreamer" in response to her personal affront at our country's immigration policy that hit too close to home. She enjoys improvisational singing, thrift stores and dogs.
You can read more of her work at patricialawlerkenet.com