Palaces in shambles relatively close,
Beyond it a dirty city.
on the sidewalks of a lost third world,
with the broken aspect ratio of an European crowd, the once so called Switzerland of America, here stands by.
But outside there, deep in the gutters there is still life
A tiny conglomeration of life.
That scares you through the cocktail glance.
in backyards, begging for change, for a change.
"Bus 104 to Buceo beach",
its dark & there's barely water
the year is gone,
beyond it the hand sculpture, fingers arise.
And so does the korean karaoke bars.
Overgrown with brothels,
that's where Milieus gathers around.