No Such Luck

and there I was thinking
   la migra skipped my neighborhood because
       of divine intervention or something;
           such good luck
              for my sweet neighbors
 
still wearing my little whistle
     around my neck,
and still having my megaphone ready
        to make loud noises 
            if the roving bands of armed thugs show up
               to kidnap  black and brown  bodies,
wondering if my little efforts
in local groups
are even helping at all
 
wondering why my neighbors
have been passed over so far,
      here in the shadow of the refinery
           the shadow of the..........
 
then the truth of this luck
    choked me
       just like the late-night stench
              of petroleum laced with chemicals
that frequently floats through our neighborhood
and has been choking me
for months
 
big oil is even louder and stronger 
      than la migra;
  they proclaim,
          "don't take them yet
                we need their bodies for 25 more years or so,
                    to do our dirty work
                        while we squeeze every last drop of oil
                           out of the ground
                               to be sent to our refinery"
 
someone has to stay here to deal with the carcinogens
   that the CEO's do not want to get anywhere near,
         someone has to sacrifice their lungs
              and provide the startling statistics
                  of high rates of childhood asthma in this city
 
someone has to kill themselves slowly
     to line the pockets
         of the rich white men
 
sleeping in their multi-million dollar estates
   far far away
          until the very last drop of oil is gone,
            the refinery quickly packs up and leaves,
               with  poisoned air, soil, and water in their wake,
and workers with no more work,
but high cancer rates
 
and then,  whoever is left alive, who is black and brown,
       will then be disappeared into the night