white men can’t f*ck (dedicated to Timothy McVeigh, et. al)

white men can’t f*ck .. you see, because
they’re just too inhibited … and they’re just too limited
in places where it really counts
and, because they could never say
“I need you, now, baby”
during a cool morning shower
or in between bites after a grueling, two-hour subway ride home
and because, in fact, the mood seldom strikes
without the assistance of a 1-900 number, a $5 dollar magazine
or a 10:00 pm, do-you-know-where-your-children-are
pay-per-view, poke-in-the-dark special
white men can’t f*ck, you see, because
they just don’t know how to please
and they just don’t know how to leave … well enough alone
and especially because they always hang around
just long enough to graze you with that ancestral whip of superiority
and to then gingerly fondle the wounds
born from hundreds of years of socio-sexual-economic tyranny
and to marvel at the not-so-new-and-improved subservient stereotypes
born from this stale era of fast-food sex and mass-market imagery
replete with p*ssy-red lipped, olive-toned, foreign wenches
whose sole ambition in life is to quench their lusty desires
(in not one language, but two) … [“Aqui se chicha Español?”]
white men can’t f*ck … you see, because
they’re just too prim … and they’re just too proper
except when shit comes to shove
and especially because … and especially because
they can never make a child-support, parking summons
or income tax payment unless the courts force them to
nor can they do so without alluding to the myriad
of black and latino men and women
who luxuriate on welfare’s $500 bucks a month
and who rob from them the kick-back and patronage jobs
they so rightfully, whitefully, inherently deserve
white men can’t f*ck, you see, because
they can’t laugh … and they all swing
and, so, I’m finding it hard to want anything
to do with white men … you see, because they just can’t f*ck

© 1994 by Marina Ortiz

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