1/10/08
I sit in the old
minivan
holding the old
latte
waiting for the old
baby
to wake.
We are in the parking lot
again
we are in the parking lot a lot.
Todays parking lot is at the doctors office
in the poor town
near the teetering on the edge town
in which we live.
Its odd that here,
in the current
murder
capitol
of America,
the buildings are all brand new.
It is a
cement
tent
city
thrown up tout sweet
by corporate
forbes-list
free-from-woe
never-go-there
men.
Thrown up
to quickly
leach
the last
from the least.
These big cement squares
hold big business wears
at prices these
citizens
can't refuse.
No, really.
They can't refuse,
refuse:
suck them quick
then let them crumble
the buildings and
the people.
I turn my ring around:
diamonds in.
I will be the only mother
wearing them in
the waiting room
of the baby's doctor
in the bad part of town
where my insurance
sends us
(ends us).
....Baby's still still
I have to wake him soon.
He'll have to get a shot,
maybe,
more money
for the silent
Oz.
Poison: to save him they
say.
He still doesn't speak.
Save him with poison
and be greatful.
I have to wake him,
poor thing.
