In third grade

My friends and I sat on the rusty swing set
The fall air blew our hair everywhere
And yelled as the swings went back and forth
Making a creaking noise
And then we would walk to the parking lot

My mom was always late
She worked and had to rush to pick us up
But one day there was a new mom who was late
And she didn't like my sister talking to her daughter

"Go back to your country" she said
"Don't talk to her" she said
"Where is your mother?" she said

A teacher ran over
And yelled at the mom
I tuned the shouts out
Because I knew she didn't like us

My sister went home and cried
And my mom called the school screaming
But I never knew why the mom didn't like us
Until I sat back on that rusty swing set the next day

My friends and I still yelled
The fall air still blew our hair everywhere
We still listened to the creaking of the swings
And walked to the parking lot

But this time I looked at my skin
And looked at my friends skin
And I realized we weren't the same