fruitless expectations
dreams diminished but not gone
painting a different picture
so that i can move on
i used to think i'd own a house
used to think i'd have a car
now i see reality
it's a far cry from the street i knew
when i'd watch the birds fly
when i'd listen to crickets and look for ET
i thought i'd be a teacher or a nurse
have lots of children and grass for them to play in
didn't know the streets back then
didn't know the taste of blood
or the smell of death
the stench of bowels that don't function anymore
what i see is a nation under collapse
infrastructure falling down
bases don't match
somebody stole third
there's a kid i see him with pliers
and he's taking the fence apart
he's gonna sell it for scrap metal
down at the junkyard
comic books are drawn funny
hell they aren't even drawn at all
and the newspapers i could use
for toilet paper and it would be put to better use
frogs and oil are running into the rain grates
and i'm standing here
crying in the rain
the prohibition is over but there's no money to buy the booze
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem