Sticks and Stones

I lived for a year in Tucson
Across my street was a schoolyard
I was eight, in third grade
Girls were kicking a ball, I tried to play

They were older, a whole lot bolder
and,  it turned out, a whole lot colder
They brushed me off with some funny words
My folks asked me what words I heard

“they  called me a Donkey” , Pop scratched his head
“That’s  mean to call you an Ass” he said
“No Dad,not "Ass", they called me a Donkey”
Mom side-barred Dad “they called him a Honky.”

“A Honkey? what the heck is that?”
“something blacks call whites, its really bad”
“Bad? what does it even mean?”
My folks looked at each other, they had no idea

< many years later, I googled that word
Seems “white” men would go honky-tonkin'
To seek out “black” girls
Shit,thats a Prop, Sistahs rock my world >

A few years later, back in New Yawk
I went to the school where my father taught
Occasionally I`d meet some disgruntled kid
Who got flunked by my dad, man they were pissed

“Yo Drivel, Your dad is a total asshole”
This, and much worse he was called
But it never rattled me, not one teeny  bit
I`d answer "So, what am I 'sposed to do about it?”

My point: I`m naturally oblivious, like Lenny Bruce
Words don’t affect me, they carry no juice
In a way, its what we get out of DUP
Our words don’t hurt Us, no matter how fucked