Compound Kid Poem by Bill Grace
Compound Kid
The cute young woman in her Honda
Does not think of her gated community
As a compound, a.k.a. ‘the Kennedy compound’
I can not read her mind
But this real estate has a powerful message
“I am not united to you. Your problems are not mine.
Here I am secure from who you are.”
Great bars of moving iron seal my isolation from yours,
Enforce the tyranny of the sensate as a lie.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 7:39:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
