i've been a lot of places,
but few are as unique
and none as tragic,
as flint, michigan.
where the soft glow
of mellow street lamps
illuminates a soft snowfall
covering dead bodies.
a crying mother, hysterical,
gently guided by cops.
her son on the ground,
freezing if not already dead.
with a past so bright it stings
to look at old videos and pictures,
to remember what once was
and seemingly will never be.
in a world rushing to worry
about global warming, nukes,
the next election, and stocks,
flint has paused, forgotten.
