Practical Poverty

A poem about leaving poverty for ignorance.

As poverty got worse

I thought about leaving

Not far;

but weaving.

Somewhere

I could forget my problems

A vacation;

a grieving.

A place

where I could enjoy the sun

A place that far.

Where liquor was plenty

and drugs dependent

And I could see the teeth;

the smiling back at me;

the people's glee

Where I was

What I was doing

The people cared

actually.

I let them

I missed them

I wanted them

I craved them

I went

I saw

and enjoyed

and came back

I was home

I was happy

and I missed them

Strangers:  not poor

practically

Author's Note

I tried to make poverty seem ignored.