{The Slums in Rainy Season}

The world smells
new this evening
and I wonder,
is this the fruit
of privilege?

When it rains, do
they smell the
ozone, or the mud
of excrement flowing
past their toes?

Do the little ones,
their arms just-bone
and shirts sagging,
run in the rain by
choice, or do they
run for cover?

Do I only dance
in the rain because I
know when I sleep
I will be dry?

Do I only turn my
face to the sky
because I know my
well-fed body will
keep me warm?

I rejoice and
the yellow blooms
rejoice when it rains.

Do the women
in run down colors
rejoice,
or do they bend
their heads to
the cold drops?

I do not
know.
I just sit

in my warm
vehicle and
watch rain fall
on my
raincoat-clad arm.

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2 thoughts on “{The Slums in Rainy Season}

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