Little pink house colony,
little Pepto Bismol houses
for you and me,
pink like the folks inside them,
pink like the meat inside them.
Pink, so inoffensive,
a red doused in milk.
This house that was 1950’s–
hastily built can still carry the guilt,
can still house infamy, especially
when the American dream has run out,
fled, the pink faded, has bled.