There were no billboards of breasts,of legs I could never match the length of—I liked not being meat as I am in America.There was not enough produce to go aroundand if you look closelyI was part of the problem.And if you held the country at arm’s length and squinted,the ban burdening a ninety-mile stretch of egowas part of the problem.          I did eat romaine leaves mashedwith avocado and oil without considering who I didn’t feed,I did buy tomato and let a man overcharge me.I keep trade between my hand and anotherbut economy involves itself in history, taxesthe luxury of learning where I came from.When it comes totaken liberties,surely I am not all magazine and not-enough and green money.My blood must have something to do with me.