We see people walking on the edges of roads.
Their faces are bland, we assume that they are
poor, they are.
Great photographers see them and take their pictures;
they hang them on pastel walls and
win Pulitzer prizes in photography.
This is a part of society that I do not see.
I am always too busy to see them.
***
There is a part of society that I do not see.
I try to see them but they do not want to be
seen or so I think? They have a chip on their shoulders.
The world does not see them. They walk behind
baskets of trash.
They walk on the edge of the roads, we almost
ran over them! Their world does not reflect the beauty as seen on T.V.
Their minds are somber and poor.
They unload the trucks at the warehouse; they
turn their heads when you look their way.
They walk in groups of poverty; there is no education
or dreams in their minds. Their cloths are from the poverty bin.
They sometimes sit on benches of dust as we drive
by and wonder what happened.
Some of us are pulled away and stay; some of
us are mired in poverty.
We have to see, we have to stop and see.
***
Some of us have tried to pull them away from
the poverty, they do not move.
We whimper in our minds, come away we scream.
They are stuck in their way.
Their path does not move out.
Do I see them? Yes.
Do they see me? No.
Then again they do see me.
I am on that lofty platform thinking about the
angels.
***
I am typing at the computer keyboard.
The Beatles are singing about the Penny Lane.
Very Strange.
Gollum is learning the meaning of ....
badaba
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