“God damn! It’s taking forever”, I thought
Looking at the new wall.
The colors are wrong,
The design askew.
Coronado is a small island
Joined by bridge to San Diego.
Streets are clean, houses well maintained,
And the comfort level is high.
My neighbor’s bougainvillea covers half the public walk,
She tells me “the flowers are pretty
And there’s still room for people to get by”.
She is claiming public property because it pleases her.
A luxury liner moves easily in a moderate chop,
Small sampans must deal with the wake.
Do the passengers on deck 9 comprehend those working boats,
Those thousands of little crafts?
How could they?
There is an unbridgeable gap
Separating the two worlds,
And the workmen, building my wall,
Secure the space.
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