Portland

I look
At Portland,
I am on a slow
Moving train not
Once but several
Times over two years
Each time I smell the stench
Of human excrement from used
Toilet paper long strands blown by
The wind caught along the train
Tracks on either side from the
Plastic shanty hovels of the
Poor who live along the RR
Tracks in filth despair rain
Ready to flare up in fire
Rage at any chance
Opportunity so I
Am not at all
Surprised
At the
Riots
But the
Underlying
Problem is more
Than unemployment
It is the emptiness of the
Heart of so many young men
Who feel they have no place
In America since women
Took over their roles
As head of house
Career worker
For a pension
These young
Men have
No self
Respect as
They are drones
Who do not know care
What is expected of them
Now that women no longer
Need or depend on them so
Why not riot vandalize burn
A society where they have
No honor outside a job
In the police security
Military and once
Out relapse into
The slough of
Despair that
Is the RR
Track
Cut
In Portland
Or other places
Where Hope has died
So why not riot on opportunity.
These last fifty years have
Been the salad days of
Young women but a
Living hell for many
Young men who
Do not even
Know what
Hit them
Too hurt
To speak out
Since women form
Groups to organize and
Men brood then lash out.
It is a society where
Men wear shorts
And women
Wear the
Pants.
Yet
Often
I see the
Women in
Poverty who
Care as they can
For these lost men
Raising kids not part
Of the smart party set
Just trying to survive today.
Why? Because in the ‘50s
A family of four could
Live a middle class
Life on one wage
Earner and now
It takes two
And a half
In the
Working
Class all so
The rich do not
Have to pay their
Fair share of taxes.
Why do a few have
So much when so
Many have
So little?
The pill
The taxes
The apathy
Of young men
Still boys at forty.
Who riots in Portland,
Peter Pan’s lost boys
And Wendys who
Try to care for
Them when
The boys
Cannot
Fly.