Yes, We Are Here

They disembark, men and women of every race
united by the pallor of a long sea-voyage. The Customs men
will consider it a sign of "inbreeding." They wait
patiently in lines, reading foreign papers
two months out of date and full of nothing but grief.
Fresh news, fresh air and water
come to them as largesse.
A sweatshop full of leotards or shirtwaists,
a field of hope.
Their children will own businesses.
Their grandchildren will be President.

--word salad

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside