"I am not worried about the very poor"

Mitt Romney 

1 

back in rural South Carolina

at the Super 8 Minit Mart

Crack dealers and pimps hang

out beneath the no loitering sign

I sidle past them

trying to look tough

but I'm not afraid

I'm dressed in tattered shorts

and tee shirt, unshaven, wearing

my Clemson baseball cap

I have a few dollars

crumpled in my pocket

It's gonna be a long night

in Lake City. we'll stay double locked

in our motel room

up and down Route 52

you see old black men

riding bikes

they can't afford a car

 the despair is palpable

even the Walmart has closed

their building

is an empty tomb

this is the Corridor

of Shame

we pass fields

that used to be

plantations

we have traveled back

but now we leave again

headed for the ocean

glad to be leaving

but feeling guilty

leaving these folks

behind

2 

back to the Super 8 Minit Mart

at five am. As I leave the motel

walk across the parking lot

the air is cold and clean

bird cries fill the air

in this one-horse

Southern town. The pimps

and drug dealers have packed

up and left the scene

I walk across to the Super 8

Minit Mart to buy a cup

of java.  Inside, there is an old lady

at the cash register looking drained

and her body guard, a tough looking

white man, with a hard face and eyes

that could skewer you in a second 

I try my South Carolina nod on him

but he does not respond

outside, the birds are crying

and another invisible train

blasts through town

Back in the room

Linda is sleeping and I fire up

the computer to write this poem

I can't get Mitt Romney's words

out of my mind: "I am not worried

about the very poor"

Really, Governor?

I am worried about

 all of us...America