|
STEVE CROSS
P.R. 181
Overcapacitated trucks,
in front behind beside me,
billow black smoke
from ancient engines,
block roads, asphalt strained potholes,
shirtless sweating mulattos
honk horns
at passing mamis
who wait for públicos
arms and legs crossed
under thinnest shade
below “Yanki Go Home!” signs,
mercy from sunlight
is gettin' harder
to come by
it's getting hotter
succumbed by,
madness swells
no water
pipes empty
asthma attack skin cancer
2-ton rocks fall
from truck cargos
traffic JAMMED!
for miles in radius.
Plastic economy
unchildproof development
fake,
181,
like all the others
criss-crossed and paralleled
with a many-millioned lives
yearning simply
just
to breathe
Copyright STEVE CROSS (all rights reserved; To copy or translate this poem, please contact the poet)
TRANSLATOR and ILLUSTRATOR WANTED FOR THIS PAGE
|
|
