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You've taken my dreams away, America,
and pawned them on the streets of Manhattan
laid them blatantly across the hungry belly
of young and skinny whores
from Puerto Rico, and played god
when our children died in Baghdad ...
Where are you going America, my dreams
and my insanity? Won't you cry
for Vietnam, and buy flowers for the dead?
Walk hunchbacked in the memory
of all those men you've killed
around the world, and kneel down
to their children and say you're sorry?
You've taken away my dreams, America,
and soon you'd be walking alone
talking to yourself like your insanity
POETRYREPAIRS 11.11: 131