The Streets of San Jose

The streets of San Jose are paved with broken concrete
that juts out at your toes until you learn to watch where you step.
The cobbled stone turns from gray to dirty brick red and back
as different materials come down from historic buildings
falling in disrepair or replaced by modern international giants;
McDonalds, Taco Bells, Pizza Huts, even Kentucky Fried Chickens.

The streets of San Jose are covered in greasy fried chickens
with a side of salisbury steak and heavily MSGed barbecue sauce.
More cheap than the bounty of vegetables growing in the countryside,
on every corner the fatty factory protein is available
for only $2.50, some self respect and a lifetime of high cholesterol.
You can watch the grease slide from mouth to exposed flabby skin.

The streets of San Jose are drowning in obese, flabby skin
rolling from the sides of densely packed pedestrians.
Plunging over tight waistlines and bursting out of single stitched seams.
Enormous spongy buttocks swallow small stools and two toothed women
are orbited by tiny tables with confusing lottery tickets, "29 Chances!"
or hawking backdated Chinese crap fresh from the warehouse.

The streets of San Jose are pock-marked with cheap Chinese crap
that must arrive at the dock to a line of barkers. Waiting
to fill their black plastic bags with the same shit they will sell
on every street, in every corner, at any price, to anyone with money.
Remote controls, power cords, textiled bags, plastic toys from dime store machines.
All laid out side to side on industrial garbage bags like well organized trash.

The streets of San Jose are littered with unorganized trash
that has already been picked through, shat on, slept with and discarded
by the numerous wandering vagrants that sleep in the most visible areas.
Preferably on sidewalks and under business awnings of major streets
where more tourists will disgustingly throw colones on the ground
to keep the clever hands from finding their way into clean pockets.

The streets of San Jose are filled with clever hands and bold thieves
who will kill you in broad daylight for just a few dollars.
Leaving you to bleed out on the gray concrete cobblestone,
staining it a dirty red just blocks from your hostel and the police
who will let your body lay uncovered in the sun while inspecting the scene
before bagging you and taking you off the unwashed streets of San Jose.