Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Song of Olympia

She calls to us from her balcony,
this state of ours,
selling herself to the highest bidder;
calls to developer, farmer,
shipping magnate and technology guru:
"Wa don't y'all come up
and see me sometime?"

Later, in that darkened room,
resting her tired feet against the scarred table,
her hair in curlers,
she watches her meagre finances dwindle
and dreams of the old days
when money was plentiful
and the paths --now worn-- across her face
were still new.

* * *

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