The Town

The dust flies from the road,

Landing sporadically on the ground.

Vehicles are rarely seen on this street;

Its inhabitants hardly drive—

They prefer to walk.

Tilting shacks line the rocky roadways

Full of debris.

Dark-completed children laugh and play;

Their lives on the edge—

Barely children, hardly scavengers.

Deep eyes stare up at me,

Pleading for a chance to live,

To escape from their cages.

Enjoying their innocence,

Oblivious to their futures.

“Bienvenido!” one calls to me,

Dirt smudges stain his face.

A mother’s summons distracts him;

School is in session,

Their uniforms pressed.

Another day goes by

In this decaying town.


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