Great Expectations

We never spoke He was just a statistics my went over As our car rode pass Did not want to blow my cover I am emerging middle class. And he Still a young man Abandoned to his blackness - A living sample of a whole generation Lost in our snottiness Why did I look at him so long Was something familiar misplaced In the cloud of my mirror? He had no where to put his hands His pockets were nervous, shivering I guess the presence Of his hands bothered them too This is Conway And from this mountain I see mist No dreams - a very significant fact Amidst the sprawl of white Cotton littering the eyes - I passed another crop behind ... Tobacco, something to clear the mind These are farming folks, well mannered too Family grows green here and jubilant I flog my mind to comprehend The passive air of contentment Within boundaries frazzled with history Here is a young man without knowledge of it Mirror of self Map of today and tomorrow Here is apathy to the pall of sorrow This a cul-de-sac of memory He chews his tobacco hungrily