Frequently, folks I come across
Show resolute perseverance
In claiming to know the origin
Of my ethnic appearance.
Ersatz comrades, spying me,
Feel moved to loudly cry—
And declare me a native of everywhere!
From Guyana to Mumbai.
“Where do you hail from?” I've been asked.
“You look Panamanian, pal.”
“Yeah? Well, when you bitches—
Kickin’ the rent for my canal?”
“¡Primo! ¿Tu es Boricua?
It’s friendly to share these things."
"¿Boricua? ¡Vato! Don’t you know?
I founded the Latin Kings!"
One geezer wept. "I know your sort!
And It makes my old heart glad—
To see another friendly face
From sunny Trinidad."
These clever dicks don't bother me
—Not even for a minute;
Just confirms the theory it's my world
—And they’re just livin’ in it.