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The Pauper

The Pauper

He looks into the window
dusty shelves 
garment rolls
lapel jackets, 
Long sleeves.
Memory
Succeeds.
 
Days of copiousness...
The many needs.
Behind his back… 
Society.

Delighted steps, 
He took
toward
simplicity. 

Like this humbled deprivation...  
The caged soul is 
never heard. 
It left evidence of the willing and the absurd.
Lone manikins 
draped in evening wear, 
Matching eyes 
Unmoving stare.

He blended his memory
into the perfectly round 
gold buttons 
with silver thread.
Rationing last night’s bread, 
Remembering 
The day before
while looking ahead.

Pride lined the way
down ally's the storefronts, 
the vacant lots
not missing... 
What time had not.
Effulgence remained, 
throned in the dark...

He owned-
He didn't need to beg 
borrow, 
or steal. 
He just needed
To laugh and feel.

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