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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Alone Time” Down in the Dirt, v183 (the May 2021 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Lockdown’s Over the Down in the Dirt May-August 2021 issues collection book		get the 420 page May-August 2021 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Caravan

Joseph S. Pete

Caravan, caravan,
caravan of tired, poor,
huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
wretched refuse surging inexorably toward the Rio Grande.

Caravan of foreigners, others,
alleged Middle Easterners and the like
proceeding toward the prophylactic border
of the virginal lily-white nation.

Age enough, wrinkle enough,
amass enough adipose tissue around
the sad, sagging, deadweight belly,
the kettlebell gut your faltering metabolism long ago failed,

grow dead enough in the eyes
and dull enough in the mind,
and you’ll start to fear every other they trot out,
every other trumpeted on the faithful cable station
that bleats like a stalwart mountain goat.

Diminished, stooped, a shadow of your former self,
you’ve got no other real friends.
Your kids don’t call.
Your Facebook posts hang out in the indifferent void,
unliked, unacknowledged, unloved.

You’ve only got the stultifying drip-drip-drip
of the morphine IV on the flat screen,
whatever poison the propagandistic cable station
pumps into your ready veins.

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