It's not a place you'll find in any guides:
cheap clusters of hotels; each restaurant
is just a putrid café; these roadsides
are simply there to pass by;
Don't dare flaunt
your femininity among this fog
of careless people, given the cold tricks
of human jetsam in this wasteland smog,
condensed, thick in the air;
It also slips
across the semi-conscious in the dirt,
dumped, injured on the ground; and then ignored
by worthy citizens, who always skirt
urban detritus;
This is the reward
for studying this place you came across,
lacking the guidance to prevent your loss.
There are no recent comments (1 older comments) - Click here to add a comment to this poem or Show more comments or Read All User Comments (1)