I heard again the other night the phrase,
“I’m not a racist . . . but.”
I wonder why
they think I will agree with them when they
decide to point their big fat buts at me
as if their breaking wind’s a pleasant smell
I should appreciate; that they’ll convince
Me just how fair and balanced they can be
If only they will say the magic words:
“I’m not a racist.
Just saying that I’m not has made it so.”
It is a most compelling argument
But still, I wonder if the smell would be
The same if I would label garlic rose,
Or said that vinegar was peppermint.
If saying it will make it so, then I
Am rich and handsome, young and very wise.