Everybody Down

Each page reveals little by little

meaning for the tears from Love hating

you.  Salt shed from one set of eyes

for another pair of a dried up carcasses

with traces of crusted puss.  Welcome to the Alien

Nation where all citizens blindly follow directions

to regurgitate belief in denial pointing fingers

at everyone but themselves.  It’s too simple

to see it.  Staring at walls we never see it. We gaze

right past it clicking to something less

depressing. Lackluster boy of three, death shining forever

from his eyes, in the high hot sun covered up with a blue

pom-pom hat.  His name is Muhamad. He is three, not the Trinity

three, more only three years, or months.  Another mother-less

child.  Would you, could you even let yourself care?  Is it

too much to look?  Right here, right now love a dead alien

child with not documented papers?  Such a simple

question of whom believe to be human.  We have

displaced all of our own species.

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