garden of eden
most of them sit on the porch
drooling onto the pavement
staring into the void of stillwell avenue
the care workers give them flowers to hold
coloring books and blankets
something to attract their attention
or they march them down the street
in slow, shuffling groups
grabbing the ones who go nuts when a loud truck passes
breaking up fights
between the few who don’t get along
these are the sons and daughters of fine, upstanding
citizens
this is only one idea of love
out of the many options that we always sully
they aren’t the forgotten ones
the ones who piss themselves
or have to have their asses wiped out in the open
but you hear things sometimes
like the one who ran into traffic
or the ones forced into giving head to a security guard
as he waited for his wife outside the local library
the one the teenagers tortured last month
the one who finally lost it all and set himself on fire
only no one knows where he got the matches
but most of them just sit on the porch in old lawn chairs
passing the hours drooling into the pavement
giving childlike smiles when people walk by
waving as if everyone were their best friend
they sit all day under a sign that reads
this is the garden of eden
residents of a paradise of sorts
or
unwitting participants in a cruel example of irony
if this is the kind of thing that passes for irony
these days.
No comments:
Post a Comment