StarbuckSS

I’ve heard the question asked before
But the answer I still don’t know,
What is it? What have we done?
Why do they hate us so?

I’ve read the question many times
I’ve heard it asked a few.
I also always knew the answer
Of ‘Simple, you’re a Jew.’

And yet today, nothing satisfies
As chills run up my spine,
Because some bitch stole the secure –
if careless attitude of mine.

“They hate us” seemed so far away,
it didn’t mean me.
It was always across the ocean,
And in another century.

Not here, not now. Not at a Starbucks
At such neutral territory,
It just seems the wrong setting
For such a disconcerting story

Lunch started pleasantly enough
Which was why it took me a moment to understand,
What it was that froze my blood
As I saw that woman’s hand.

She angled it so that we could see
The insignia tattooed on her arm.
Sitting at the next table
She enjoyed my noticeable alarm,

I had never realized the power
Of two simple letters intertwined
The S and S – the Swastika
Arrogance and loathing combined.

She smirked in our direction,
And hissed quite loudly, ‘Extermination!’
We grabbed our bags, got out of there
And headed for the nearest station

But I still walked passed her, with head held high,
As if I didn’t give a damn,
I am proud of being a Jew!
I am oh so proud of who I am.

But that chill in my spine, followed me home
And it still asks – it still wants to know
What is it? What have we done??
Why do they hate us so?