Lost in America

For a mean, miserable second,
his red, sunken eyes glared
with a fire-spitting focus.

There I was,
held spellbound
by the anguish of a man
who had seen better days.

Lost in America,
His tale of woes, in painful recant,
could break dams of emotions
and a floodgate of tears.

His Adam’s apple ran riot
with fiery words rolling out
from a mouth in constant commotion.

Lost in America,
was this once thoroughbred African
in the crushing grip of self-bondage,
running from pillar to post
in the harsh, cold winter
and the scorching heat of summer.

Finding no fleece of gold
or a pasture of green
on his wild goose chase
for the American dream,
he was prepared to eat crow
for checking out of the Motherland.
But he’d rather be lost in America
than return home, a failure.