Graham Reid | | 1 min read
Good Morning, America (2005)
wake early
that is the time
to see
the other America . . .
the young men
picking through garbage
collecting cans
bagging bottles
for refund money
and
the old women
talking to invisible companions
piss-stained pants
swollen feet
in torn slippers
the old men
shuffling to empty benches
bottles in brown bags
sleeping deeply
in warm sunshine
discarded butts
on scuffed sidewalks
the wheelchair people
the lame
the lost
supermarket trolleys
on the move
at dawn
from the cops
from the stares
from the other people
from the other America
This poem was prompted by time in Sacramento, California. See this travel story.
post a comment