By Jack Henry
waitresses carry hot plates
stacked with rice and kung pow chicken
vivid smiles on round faces
make me sad and i wonder
why did Captain America die so young
fat mothers with milk stained skinny daughters
carry thick bags of boxed food
my phone has not rang in weeks
now the battery is dead
an Indian man, that is, a man from India
makes a joke and laughs
i do not speak that language even though
i danced for tourists in Mumbai before you were born
Clutching at Straws 