Filthy Poem by Jonathan Land

Yes, just go on
smoking that cigarette,
little girl on the wall.
Your big and innocent
blue eyes
have never seen the
suffering
of other people;
you blonde hair,
now dirty and messy,
has never felt
filthy
at least not as I
have seen you.
You are a creature of the city,
and there is no denying it,
and you have passed through
the narrowest of alleys
and you have seen through
the narrowset of minds
and you have avoided
the narrowest of squinted eyes.
Day, night, and all the little corners
have been your
home.
You smile for your orange scarf
is the only one you've had or will have.
You smile for you do not know us,
old men.