Some poetry my brother wants me to post

I wrote this a few weeks ago and figured since I'm blogging I might as well post it. No clue what it's called, and it's a little more depressing than my experience thus far in Costa Rica. Also, if I haven't forced you to listen to this yet and watch the video do so immediately. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CDMqyv-fqm4

And she buried her face
in the folds of her mother's skirt
because the child reaching towards her
with a gaping palm creased in dirt
had a burnt brown face
and a chipped front tooth
His clothes were caked in mud,
as thin as a mosquito net
used to stop malaria
and torn at the knees
and around his green bean neck

She thrust her nose into the fabric
inhaling Chanel perfume and Downey detergent
because the woman on the corner
with the torn cup in her fist
was urinating on the cobblestones
the stream of yellow winding through the cracks
almost like raindrops sliding down her car window
except she wouldn't smear this with her finger
unlike rain it wasn't clear and glittering
and instead of reminding her
of her safety inside her big black car
this stream of liquid reminded her
that glossy cars and gated houses
didn't fly her off to a different world
they just made her more afraid of this one.