The Market™

Pubblicatoil Mag 21, 2019 in Poetry Box

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“There is a market in this city

that is not just a market

the food smells good

the people smells good

some of them smell less good

too early to be drunk

some of them

spills wine on trousers

while waiting in line

Three tacos please

thirty six dollars please

the lady at the counter looks annoyed

and smells greed

empty greed, only in cash

cultured money wasters

say thanks and pay

I step to another stand

that sells obvious fried chicken

Five pieces please

Twenty dollars thank you

feeling funny

I need some wine now…

…plastic cup? Oh God…

thirteen dollars thank you

This was the market

it was a thick line

between rich kids allowed in

and poor kids holding skateboards

got in the car

one couple pass by

drinking cheap soda in the can

looking at the entrance

and that was the fucking market

the cheap soda was not daring to enter

people at the bottom

are allowed to work only

sometimes consume

people at the bottom

are allowed to sweat and smile only

spoken English not essential

we are all ready to suffer

because toilets are shining

and shit smells the same

motherfuckers only”