Amherst, MA

Suspended in Amherst, once colonial, now suburban,
English strains flowing through the typography
of a purloined continent, homeland of displacement,
 
I, confined, yet drifting on main street,
aging face in a youthful band, pass a quarter
to a placeless man, and so
 
converse with Daniel, his buttoned jacket a probable
hand-me-down, gaining leave to turn
my camera upon his once white, now dark-browned face,
 
here among scattered strangers
seeking kindness, a people, with and without,
a nation awaiting a purifying dispensation.