JADED
The jaded tastes
of a nation
his nation
were in his mouth
and the soiled cloth
his nations cloth
was on his skin
and the broken road
his nations road
was below his feet
and they had the nerve
the sheer audacity
to call him
unpatriotic
as he wandered his nation
searching for his nation
wanting to find his nation
somewhere besides
the first street flops
or the triangle park
where old men lay
as if the next bus round
would unload their youth
but he walked on
and searched for his nation
for his nation in an alley
his nation in a back room
a front room
any room
even outside
where the tilted sidewalk
forced you to go
uphill
and the nation
hiding somewhere
by a pier
or an apartment complex
or a peace march
he walked on
searching for his nation
wanting to find it
being called an unpatriot
an unamerican
a troublemaker
he asked the whores
the old men
the drunks
the farmers
the clerks
everybody seemed
to have lost their nation
for they all knew not
where it might be
so he hung his head
and found it
between his toes
growing green
and spring sweet
and yes,
slightly trampled.
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