I walk the streets of Dream City,
see the homeless on every corner,
cardboard signs proclaiming need,
yet few stop to give alms.
I listen to the people I pass
speaking foreign languages.
I carefully look around
and the city is familiar,
A shock. It’s not Calcutta!
It may not look it anymore
but I’m in America,
becoming a third-world country.
So many have fallen
so far, so fast,
I barely recognize my land.
The capitalists may as well give away
the Statue of Liberty,
the inspiring French gift,
not much different now
from the Eiffel Tower,
a tourist attraction.