arriving at work
to the homeless man who smells like urine
he sits on the stoop
like a sickly shroud
smelling faintly of urine
he’s huddled in black
black suitcase
black duffle bag at his side
his face ghostly and pale
his lips white with kidney failure
sometimes there is a beer bottle or two at his side
he sits there shivering
as people walk by going to work
with huge coffees and bagel sandwiches
and little rolly bags trailing them like dogs
in less than twenty minutes
i will let him inside
where he will find a chair and read or sleep
until he pisses himself anew
the good people complain
and i have to ask him to leave
arriving at work
to the homeless man who smells like urine
sometimes i think about
how glad i am that i’m not him
but sometimes i think about
how the only real choices in america
are to work like a dog until you’re half-dead
or to end up smelling like piss in the street
how everyone in this shithole nation
is just a few bad mondays
from being just like this guy
a few bad breaks
and america will throw you away
like trash
then i go inside
and i sit at my desk in the dark
with my head buried in my hands
and i wait for something better
that will never come.
--John Grochalski
No comments:
Post a Comment