by Ingrid Buck
baby boomers, a multitude
on the move from one other to another other
we steal and cheat in match-girl's story,
we are rocks in pockets of medicare, social security, young workers
los jóvenes. sin zapatos, sin comida, sin centavos
la pobre niña tiene hambre y mucho frio
baby boomers, a multitude
on the move from one other to another other
we steal and cheat in match-girl's story,
we are rocks in pockets of medicare, social security, young workers
los jóvenes. sin zapatos, sin comida, sin centavos
la pobre niña tiene hambre y mucho frio
so many viejos
our world on fire
each body, a suitcase,
sits packed at the door
a comet streaks
greed fans iceball flames
age speeds time
wetravel onebyone light into the night
wewalk alone upthemountain
freezewrapped in the same half-blanket we leave our children
no food or water needed this trip
no time to douse fires we started
what we leave behind
under a bleak winter sky
pockmarked with stars
¡Pobrecito! poor cold child
little match-girl
flares and drops
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