I Sing the Body Mediocre

Is it ok to not want world peace?
To recognize that the compromise required would
Cheapen ideals?
Is it all right to want to hold on to
What makes me Black
And her White
Even while we fight
And not want the gray water
After the brushes are washed?

Maybe it's wrong to mulch and guard
The roots of my belief
And care about the origins of my thoughts.
Maybe I can't cram an African foot
Into a Made in America shoe.
Maybe I should be
Colorless, odorless, tasteless
Carbon monoxide
Slowly, silently killing character in the garage.

Or maybe, John,
I don't want to Imagine a world of harmony.
Maybe I want to be free
To hate
If hating defines my love.