Going Home Amidst the Lost People

GOING HOME  AMIDST THE  LOST   PEOPLE


Little boy eight and grandma
Spoke to him about his poor behavior
He snapped back without eye contact
Like talking to a pinball machine

The usual woman in the pie van wasn’t there
A substitute  man was there,  I saw  -
glanced at  - his pies and his soviet face and 
Decided to walk on by,   pieless

Outside the metro an old lady dignified and
Well dressed standing smartly 
Holding a balloon  like a flag of defeat
For sale to the passing crowd 

Inheriting nothing of their own rich culture,
Acquiring all the cheapest baubles of the west,
This is a lost people.
..................................................................................................................

(See it for yourself any day in St. Petersburg, Russia)
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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