On my mother’s floor
there are four apartments.
The other three have college age children,
back for the holidays,
and me,
back from the wars.

The war on unemployment.
The war of too many Twinkies.
The war on getting out of bed.

All the apartments have parents
and children.
Parents who are proud
of their progeny
and sometimes
something else.

This represents New York, I think,
America
and the world.
Gods help us all.