on loop 288 & I-35, Denton

It is shocking how quickly life situations can change- in reality we are all just one or two unlucky events away from being one of the people we ignore standing on the street with a sign. A frightening prospect indeed.

* * *

 

The lady at the counter

tells me no more is left

so I move along past

shuffling my feet.

Does it matter to her

that my tongue is cleft-

deformed, so I stay in my seat?

I look in a mirror

and see what others view-

tattered clothes

wrinkled skin and scabs

face unshaved.

Fly-like eyes darting 'round

search for non-existent food-

beasts in my belly gnawing

like eviscerated slaves.

You chuckle at my sign

as I hold it to my breast

or stop and gape

with wonderment

at a man whom has no shame.

You rush past and forget

how God has made you blessed;

it seems that "good Samaritans"

no longer have a claim.

A man in a loud tie

talks about me on TV;

I see it at a store

and on the newspaper page.

You wonder if I'm aware

of the time spent just on me;

I want to scream I do not care

but can't bring forth the proper rage.

Not a one impatient

stranger in their Cadillacs

their empty words produced

for re-election

can understand why I

stand with sign and "slack"

they stare dumb

from windows gilded to perfection.

I fought their war

kept their precious

children rich and free-

grimy hands once held

their flag with swollen pride.

The same hands would have

gripped tight my college degree

but foreign lands and bullet holes

cast dreams aside.

So I stand in the median

with my sign clutched

to my breast

while empty suits spout

"robust times" and

"deserving" what I've seen.

I rage inside my brain

until I reach a lofty crest;

then sag down in disarray and

the smell of spent gasoline.