there’s no getting around this
Portugal - at least where I live now -
has seen better days
at first I thought it wild, simply
unkempt in a historic sense:
sitting in chipped tile bench
in a park established a
century and a half past
I was left to wonder what
grandeur the city once knew
but newness, idealization
a sense of wonder
has given way to daily life
the derelict homes graffitied poorly
walls streaked with damp
paths overgrown and randomly kept
broken benches never fixed
broken lights never lit
bins overflowing
litter in the streets
in the greenway along
the Medieval wall where I walk
daily
bright ideas established
never maintained
a lacking
of pride in work unfinished
and a mix of happy angry people
and clothes that never quite dry
