Sunday, May 17, 2009

Poems on the Spot

He sits on the corner near my house. 
His sign says 
Poems on the spot
It's his way of panhandling
From his wheelchair

He's a strange man
I've tried for a long time
To break down those walls
Sitting with him
At the Salvation Army

His duct tape covered jacket
Has me asking the question 
It's cheaper, he says, with a frown. 
But I know where you can get new ones, free. 

Last week he told me, the poem business 
Isn't going all that well
Maybe he's losing his uniqueness
People are too blind to see
He's hurting deep inside

1 comment:

Herman said...

I like this thought it's sad to me