a poem by Iam Dunton

Walking about Seattle,

seeing needles on the street

and the American Junkie, my heart

began to rattle.

---

My mind stirred with voices

of Freakonomics. After all,

I had studied economics.

---

I talked to some and hung out and

about to see what had put these

folks on this route.

---

The skyscrapers, yuppies and

corporations, these boys and girls

got lost in Seattle’s economic

machinations.

---

High rent, high tech, no one gives

a fuck, not even the cops as they

drive by one of these kids drooling

on the sidewalk, but I stop and shake him,

glad to find out he could still talk.

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That kid was okay, but what about today?

No one really cares, but it’s easy to help if

one dares.

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It’s not a police problem, it’s a community

problem, but ‘merica and the Emerald City have

no real community, no soul. The junk from

Amazon and gentrification has taken its toll.

---

So, I sit at home now, my mind starting to

rage wondering when humanity will take charge

and make a change? Community and unity,

it’s our intrinsic human responsibility.

---

I think about those souls, that kid again,

lying in drool on the corner of the street,

a needle by his feet. Is he okay?

Who’s going to check on him today?

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