I saw again the mama-san
who spat in my face
in a Nam latrine
on a TV clip of the protest
at the Washington Mall
in the 21st Century
She’s the same woman I see
on street corners,
face tattooed with hate,
still shaking her fist
for the right to be
a person of value
Her look ails me still,
the unarmed bystander,
never to feel the gentle kiss
she might once have given
a boy who loved her
in the days when a kiss
might have moved her
to stand back and smile