Clinic

I wish I could capture all that I saw and felt. 

A hundred shacks race past my sight
Tall walls and brick views.
The sound of tires on wet streets,
Lakes pelted by rain
and huddled bodies. 

Huddles bodies make living look hard.
Black skin glistens.
Bare feet and only rags to cover the
Most private parts of their souls.
Lightning shatters my nerves.

"What's your name?"
"What's your number?"
"Please don't throw your baby in the dumpster."

"Where's the dad?"
"You've got bare feet,"
"Let's get you off of this wet street."

Come to us first, let's go to God.

Well, I captured it pretty well.