Overshadowed

I stare blankly at a forgotten burnt down ghetto—
Not twenty minutes from the largest mall in Asia.
The ghetto was razed by a single candle—
An all too common occurrence amongst poor neighborhoods like these.
The families consider themselves fortunate that no one died.
A few people scavenge among the scraps,
Hopeful of finding a few surviving trinkets.
They lived in one room shacks made of wood with corrugated metal roofs
That rest on stilts five feet above the ground,
Five feet above a cesspool—
Their own waste helplessly feeding a static sea of sewage.
During the intense midday heat the smell bubbles up into the rooms they call home.
They have no plumbing.
No money.
No choice.
A superhighway careens above their neighborhood
Casting a giant shadow across their polluted privacy.
A billboard beside the highway reads:
“Better homes for a better future.”
Whose future do they have in mind I wonder?