I am sickened by this crowd—
those who lost their Christmas,
like a frightened boy
lost in the throng of Boxing Days.
These people,
who look at you
with the eyes of everything but the heart,
who, no matter what you do,
will never offer trust,
even as they say they do.
How can one give
what they do not have?
They are all emigration officers,
holding the paper of your deportation
in their eyes.
