Ocho Rios In The Morning
Come with me in the morning, come see
the littered broken sidewalks downtown
by James Avenue, the concrete blocked market,
across the street bidding poverty,
the feral dog, the one who limps stoically,
broken limb will never heal dragging hopelessly.
Barefoot homeless man, muttering,
"Eddie Murphy," not too subtle beggary.
Cambio swept, drugstore, security man,
one step up the ladder, little pay,
beginning work as usual everyday.
Last night lights flickering:
Spicy Indian food, samosa, curried goat,
plain rice left on the table,
shake the package 'mahn', roll the dice,
ten percent off ticket, return prices.
But now it's morning's surety,
trod your step, sandals flop,
if your lucky, you'll not fall,
nothing matters, nobody cares,
little real overall.
Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York.