November 5, 2015

In The Bleak Mid-Moment.

Filed under: Poetry — Tags: , , , , — migueltio @ 10:29 pm

You have to think that

it is not a wonder as

you drive down the many

mean streets the meaner

they are in the recessions

of the night that twenty

minutes from now someone

one of either gender shows

up to plead for help in

the nearest ER.

The babies cry in their

mothers’ arms as they

themselves shed many

tears turning them over

to the sitter or if

they are lucky to

abuela who will

hopefully keep them safe

as she is off to work

trying to second guess her fears.

Keeping your eyes open

up the block and down

why do they need hundreds

of Starbucks, Dunkins,

Walgreens, McDs, BKs

all over town hoping every

kid everywhere may want

to wear a crown or

eat a burger they were

told to by a clown as

the face of economics

keeps its’ stoic frown.

The bodega opens

at six as the gates are lifted

by the long time owner

and his brand new partner

whom he hopes will take it

on as he dreams of retiring

as he sees the character

the vibrancy of his block

in the face of more gentrification

slowly decaying

and his patience expiring.



Leave a Comment »

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: