Crab: For Jaime

You can see it in the eyes of those

who live(s) here,

pain lies heavy in them, dragging them down.

Their painful dreams never realized, painstakingly

taking their toll, each monotonous day. A city whose

job market pushes like a corporal being, putting those

who push levers tirelessly, painfully down under a behemoth foot.

Each smell breeding from the river is an infested womb,

causing pain in the nostril after a rain.

Every man, woman, and child a painter in their own union,

lone and hopeless. Using their own discolored emotions on

a canvas that rejects its donor.

They know that these painful streets hold no remorse

for anyone, no kind action. No longer gold paved,

but a tired grey that pushes back on the legs that trod upon them.

When the only joy is stuffing your face on

Crabby Monday at Red Lobster to the point of

labor pains,

You still realize their are those who starve for something,

and hold something more then hunger pains.

It is thoughts like this that makes me want to

scream, "Deal with you pain,"

but then I would be a hypocrite.