Poem -

Suppressed Evidence

Suppressed Evidence

Well dressed
well connected peacocks
obliviously 
step over and around
the tattered retread people
who fight to survive
on the crumbs that fall
between the cracks
of our cold city

Those with means
look down
on those tattered ghosts
with a disgusting touch
of condescending smugness 

Never wanting to see
the blank faces of poverty

Cops are called
to sweep the riff raff  out
under the guise of public safety
lest the tourists stay away

but in reality 

they all want to bury

society's shame

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