'Twas my first trip to New York,
I live in Serengeti.
I marvelled at the kosher pork
and Godfather Spaghetti.
I climbed the tallest building then
and looked down, getting dizzy.
The rushing women and the men,
they all seemed to be busy.
The Brooklyn Bridge, the city slums,
the 9-11 towers,
size fiftysomething Clydesdale bums
and Eastside Whiskey Sours.
It was a treat to see all that
and memories to keep.
I bought a Juliani Hat,
a toy car made by Jeep.
The day I left, I tripped a bit,
bumped into someone bigger.
He huffed at me and said
'You Shit! You motherf***ing nigger! '
So I went home to Africa
and when the plane touched down,
my friends were waiting,
all looked brown.
It was the shade of Sanzibar.
And they were very curious,
'how was your trip? ', they shouted so.
Inwardly I was still quite furious.
Instead I smiled and told my mates
if they had plans to go,
New York was not what one would call
the jewel of the states.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/out-of-africa/
