In fourth grade, we were told that Spam came from pig butts.
We were told that hot dogs might have human DNA–
it was a one-percent chance.
I didn’t eat Spam for three months.

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I don’t know how Spam became
“Sizzle, pork, and MMM,”
or who decided to put that phrase on American TVs,
but I know that Spam is canned food.
And canned food means poverty.

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Even the rich in the Philippines eat Spam.
Some of them can even eat it raw,
but my mom says that rich American
stomachs can’t do the same.
Everything’s clean in America, she says.

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Maybe the Philippines can’t afford to be clean
because Americans perceive us as dirty.
Washing our chayote and dragonfruit and overcooking our chicken,
because avoiding bacterial infection has become a habit.

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But I’m the one who’s unclean because I eat sliced Spam,
fried with rice on princess-themed plates
for breakfast on Sundays
while the Bostonian news is on in the living room
and my eyes are still swollen from a heavy sleep.

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