Ciudadano

Anonymous and exiled
in the noisy street tumult,
against the winds goes the citizen.
Pockets trembling and soul exposed,
torn and uprooted.

Speaking loudly, hastily
throwing out adjectives,
suffocated in fumes and dealings,
they cross paths, deaf and indifferent,
safe in their shells.

Who will care
about your debts and debtors
or the ailments of your elders.
Let the man burst with fear and loneliness,
with God, citizen, you'll sort it out.

And they pile up and crowd
above, in front, below, behind, and beside.
In bitter beehives they classify them,
where as ignorant as they are ignored,
they grow and multiply,

so that they keep speculating
with their work, water, air, and street
the charming people... the comedians
who know little of anything, nothing of anyone, and are
important citizens.

Beloved children,
admired scientists,
awarded tender poets,
intermediaries, centipedes,
salon politicians,
and nine out of ten, stars, they are not.