Thursday, May 13, 2010

Portland

Every evening as the sun sets over the rivers,
I hear the shopping carts rattle past,
Rattle, clink, rattle, clink, rattle, clink,
Shopping carts full of glass bottles

Going down the street, 
Finding a place to sleep.

In the morning, back they go,
Rattle, clink, rattle, clink, rattle, clink,
Over to Fred Meyer. Recycling.

Rattle Clink, Rattle Clink, Rattle Clink!
Rattle Clink, Rattle Clink, RATTLE CLINK!

And the city cries out in pain every night,
"I am myself!" it says, "I am unique"
"Let Me be ME." It cries with a
Voice of anguish, not knowing
What self means or who self is.

The cry is heard from the Barista
Who stands behind the counter.
And the waiter, who brings the beer.
From the woman at the check out
And the man who lives downstairs.
And the pain is real, intense, and hard,
Because all the time they cry out
"Let me be me." They are really asking,
"Who Am I?" And the question
Is
Still
Not Answered.....