Cradled in Paradise Hills
In the chilled light of dawn
Gospel, blares with a new day’s mercy

“Every soul that surrounds me
Is surely, lighter than mine”

“Not I”
Eases out of my mind
Still tussling with nightmares
Still afire with grief

The news, it constantly skewers
With the mantra of madmen and traitors
And the ramblings of tyrants

“All the words they spill
Are surely, more potent than mine will ever be”

In a shower so hellfire hot
I find peace at last
Soon I’m wholly engulfed by the ghostly steam

Breakfast is short and sweet
Then I take to the world
On a few crumbling roads and rails

To the crimson cars, cable bound
Hauling along
The screaming, the anguish, the laughter of being

“Every soul, that encroaches upon mine
Is so full of fortune and wonder”

We’re atop one another
Patiently, lurching along
From station to dreary station

“Every soul, that enrages me
Is surely, spoiled and free”

Across, the blue and green lines
Then I’m crammed among well-fed faces
All purposeful travelers

“Every soul, that sneers my way
Rightfully burns, with pride and prejudice ”

But down the rows of the desperate
Through impoverished villages
Home, to the fast-forgotten

America’s sons and daughters
Still forage for our scraps

“Not every soul, that cranes my way
Is what they seem at first sight”