Poem of the Day 01.28.09

for the guy
whose dinner i bought

drunk
and charitable
are both the same thing
and in this economic
climate
you got to be drunk
to blow money
but you looked sad
sitting there
eating a hot dog
and fries
in the packed bar
with no teeth
and bags over your
shoes
to keep in the warmth.
you looked like
my grandfather
and i felt fat
and charitable
and i never did a thing
for my grandfather
except wait him out
and carry his casket
when he died.
so i gave the waitress
$25
and told her to keep
quiet.
and you,
maybe you thought the world
had one last
miracle to give.
maybe you didn’t
even care
who paid the bill.
what does it matter
anyway?
three days later
when we are both
hungry and stuck in the
unforgiving world
again.