I must confess
I keep pictures of slave-owners
Well more or less
In my wallet
Sea-foam green
Fine frog hairs
Cash I mean
Picture printed on the backs of hemp
Were they heroes or merely wimps
Even my coins are incline
They shine the barbarism of our kind
Every penny,quarter, nickle, dime
Somehow they spend just fine
Smash the statues
Change their names
From your cultural war
I will abstain
Yet I need my money just the same!
Traveler Tim