There are two little boys, seven.
They live with their mothers and fathers
In two separate houses
On two separate roads
On different sides of town,
Where the people on their streets
Look just like them
And smile at the picture perfect replicas,
Still knee high to a grasshopper.
For Christmas, the little black boy asks Santa
For a big red fire truck,
Because his daddy is a firefighter
And he wants to be just like him.
The little white boy asks Santa
For a little blue racecar
Because he’s seen racecar drivers on TV
And they look like they’re flying.
Mama says he can fly.
Mama says he can have the moon.
The little black boy
Sits under the tree on Christmas morning.
Below wrapping paper and a messy bow
He finds a nearly new engine
With a white ladder on top.
He looks at Mommy and hugs her
Around the knees.
She bends down to pet his head:
She wants him to be happy;
She wants him to be anything he wants
As long as it isn’t anything
On this street on this side of town,
Where the people look just like him.