This bus of shame drives on, over
Broken bridges of misunderstanding,
Cracked foundations and bumpy roads…
I peer out the window and
There, trying to survive in a lesser world
Are the “Children of a lesser god”
I see the chicken boned children
in garbage dumps starving for food and attention
but we drive by in poverty
the poverty of noninvolvement
someone says, “How sad, someone should do something”
then turned away, slightly guilty
but with the unconscious image of the
children of the garbage
hidden away from “normal” lives
The bus ads want me to buy suntan lotion
Drink tequila on sunny beaches and
enjoy my lucky heritage
I sink uncomfortably into my
seat of electro-introspection,
Thinking of oily bank accounts
and Saudi harems, Mercedes and mansions
I try in vain to re-write a poem.
Soon, we stop for coffee in the city of critics.
Hoping to get my brain unmuddled, I sip coffee
Maybe I can infuse a new delusion (grand or false)
I head for the bathroom
They were short on toilet paper
So I left them one of my manuscripts,
I adjust my leg irons and re-boarded the bus,
“When does this tour end?” I ask.
“There is no end” said the red faced driver.
I was perplexed.
I continued looking at the broken down towns,
Gagging in smelly urinals
And forcing down “famous” cow burgers
and oily fries.
Peering out, I
saw an unshaven soldier with one leg
drinking wine in an alley, a disillusioned vet;
but one of the chicken boned children
was offering him a piece of moldy bread
Uncomfortably a tear rolled from my eye
As I dozed, I thought about this species called
We fight and injure,
Lie, cheat and steal
And then hypocritically judge others
Then gripe about the things we don’t have
The image of the chicken-boned child
feeding the broken vet,
caused me to shake.
The bus stopped
I was blindfolded and taken out in a field
I screamed,”I was only telling the truth!”
I felt the first bullet pierce my skull
And it all became like a dream