Why are you so sullen, my friend?

Barufaldi
05/28/1998
Austin, Texas

WHY ARE YOU SO SULLEN, MY FRIEND?
Is it the presence of ascending heavenly spires and
gold domed cathedrals of solace,
reminding you of broken promises of years past?
No longer you form rich images against
gray monoliths of concrete, shielding societal neglect.
No longer you spin silken tapestries of dreams
among the red-bricked secretive fortress of regimentation,
sheltering heroes of suspect.Why are you so sullen, my friend?

Is the presence of white paper-barked birches and stately elms,
among waterless fountains, urban weeds, and struggling flower beds,
reminding you of broken promises of years past?
No longer you seek comfort in cool shadows of nature along boulevards.
No longer you notice fallen factories
spewing white feathery-plumed toxic vapors,
etching cautionary notes in the air.

Why are you so sullen, my friend?

Is it the absence of human touch among lined,
expressionless faces with deeply set unfocused eyes,
reminding you of broken promises of years past?
No longer you acknowledge dirt-streaked faces of tattered Gypsy children
purposefully working touristy crowds for survival
among red-starred towers.
No longer you visualize a glasnost future.

Why are you so sullen, my friend?

Is it the loss of hope among naked storefronts of dusty emptiness,
reminding you of broken promises of years past?
Is it the realization that perestroika may remind your children of
broken promises of years past?