A Poem

A question of serentiy arises to mind
A thought of solitude explores the empty streets
Dark, dank, lonely are the nights
for those who sleep in la calle
amidst plastic bags & organic refuse
Diesel fumes discolor brightly painted gems
of architectural wonder
reaching to the past of conquest
and religion
one trumps the other
and the strongest sword wins
The people are left squalid and demeaned
Candle light flickers dimly through broken glass
the flourescent light above patiently waiting to be replaced
someday
The barefood child, with maybe two shirts and a pair of pants
watches
through sparkling windows
sautéed vegetables, slow roasted chicken
the clinking of wine glasses, ¡Salud!
The child is pushed away
by the privately hired security guards
Only money is allowed here
From a friendly tourist couple, the child begs for a meal
Simple, filling, cheap, if only it were this easy every night
she thinks
Some find their way
The grafitti artist sells brilliant simple paintings
on cardboard in the street
$1.50 each for 10 minutes of work
Not too bad, paid for doing art
The observant poet thinks the same

The past is the past, but it informs the present
The future holds promise, if only there were time to dream
but the present demands work
books and art for later
education is expensive, and so daily life continues
The TV flickering and the bookstores closing
What's the point of a literate culture
if no one ever reads?
But positive development is slowly growing
the many colors remain vibrant
and lest one think that all is lost
remember
Smiles are many and youthful eyes shine bright