I am not we who stole the land, killed a people, and stole a people to work the land. I am not we who profits a century and some change later off the cruelty of my ancestors. I am not we who manifested destiny and is manifesting a curtain call. I am not we who thinks America was ever great. I am we who was stolen, we who can trace my family back no further than a boat, we with a little of everyone’s blood in my blood, some added from love and lust, some related to me by force. I am not we who engineered the end of us, but I buy their car and their fuel. I am we who drives their car to see the green things, my trail of smog like a train behind me as I pollute my way to beauty.