My America is red;

Cherry lemonade by the side of a pool

In the summer of my childhood

Lips stained with sugary popsicles and fresh watermelon.

 

It is red like Coca Cola;

The kind from glass bottles

Drank by my grandfather and his brothers

Boarding a helicopter in the spring he went to Vietnam.

 

America is red;

The freckles on my Scottish ancestors

Ones who came through Ellis Island

For search of a better life.

 

My America is white;

The color of my sister's bathing suit

She played catch in the shallow end

With the boys of a military family.

 

It is white like paper;

The ones in the notebook of my grandfather

He was supposed to fly out

But asked to stay back as the typist for a general.

 

America is white;

Foam from the waters of New York Bay

Crossed by thousands less lucky than my family

The ones turned away at the border.

 

My America is blue;

Cloudless skies over my backyard

When I was young and didn't understand

Why my neighbors always moved away.

 

It is blue like tears;

The ones shed for all the men who died

An ambush after the helicopter landed

My grandfather saved with his education.

 

America is blue;

The same problems my immigrant family faced

The bloodshed from war

A country that hasn't learned.