Raul lives on a trashpile
Maria lives next door
Their cardboard shanties shelter
Them from life which feels like war.
Their parents are a vapor
Their brothers drift around
The rest of those they knew then
Are still hiding underground.
The men with guns come often
Their weapons sweep like brooms
The children softly cower
In their makeshift cardboard rooms.
El Loco and amigos
Have ruled the hill since when
El Presidente squandered
The golden egg (and hen).
Conquistadors on trashpiles
Where beggars sift and sort
Just Raul and Maria
And their orphanage cohort.
Observations, obfuscations, and other oddities.. Enjoy, and thanks for reading. Tom
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