You pass us every day as you go on in your lives
Used to the unhindered easy way forward.
We are, for you, the vacation you desired but didn’t have time,
The harsh words someone says about your friend,
The dengue that has affected many, but never you;
The slight things you do not like
But have to live with.
We are the miserable faces that you see every day,
Dark and dingy and sweat sheened
Relieved from the heat by your preppy, fast pace
And the heat your vehicles release
Comfort us in the early fogged dewy mornings
Of the lazy mildewing winter sun.
We are who you see in those opportune spells of shower,
When your air conditioners fail to relieve,
The extra cables you see on an electricity pole,
and the sodden cardboard boxes held together by bamboo.
We have no brick boxes, we have no walls,
The limitless sky, the uneven ground our adobe,
The mellow light of the lamps filtering through the holed net
Is illumination for our eyes, the timber from the tree
The nurturer of our food.
Faces that seem always on the outside,
We are used to the decorations your
Tall buildings and the pickpocket houses adorn
As in the nocturnal hour of the night
We lay down to rest our tired heads in the lap of the mother earth.
You call us nuisance, we call ourselves pavement dwellers.
The World Past Me 