poem of the day 02.26.13

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.