"And why should I pretend to love my neighbor Rick?
He's Puerto Rican and he has so many kids."
Three dozen racists yelled out their rage, "Go home, Spick!"
The guy who said it beamed. "and niggers, kikes and squids!"

The angry man, bedeviled by faces brown and black,
left the rally and made his way home by night.
Three drunken cowboys stopped, and started talking smack.
"What's in the pack, old man, gotta bottle? We might

see our way clear to let you live, if you've got Beam ",
the harelip spoke, and poked the pack. The man snarled back,
"Outta my way, you pack a punks!". Like in a dream
he saw three men kick up their boots, then felt a thwack

beside his eye. They punched and whacked him with a stick.
The last he saw, they took his pack and disappeared.
He lay, a bloody mess, the very pic of 'ick'.
He stunk of piss. All three had peed (and that was weird!)

Several people saw his plight, and hurried on.
At dawn, an immigrant from Syria with his wife,
came up the way, and found a man they thought was gone,
but when he groaned and twiched they knew he still had life.

Appalled with sympathy, they knelt and soon began
to kindly treat the fallen one. He cleaned the blood
and threw away the clothes. She put her burka on the man,
though she was cold. They heaved him up from bloody mud.

Taking both his arms, they walked him to an inn.
When he was fed and put in bed, they paid his bill.
The next day when the man awoke, he called his kin
and soon, His brother came and he went home to chill."

"And who is my neighbor, the guy next door?", I thought
when I read this. More must be meant by this, but what?
Perhaps those near us, in our quality of Being, ought
to be thought of as well, as those our house abuts.