Beggars All
A poem comes in disguise
like a beggar in the mall.
Some sit and look pitiful
and can not meet your eyes.
Others have a story,
"My sister's fatally sick in Ukiah,
please help us we've run out of gas."
Some poems work subliminally,
you wonder if they might be
from another world. They stand
in busy walkways and
chant "spare change", under
their rancid breath, seemingly
oblivious of you.
Some wear their sign
that tells their life, a life
that might be yours.
Others affect an air of casualness
as if they were your best friend,
"Say, you got a quarter?".
And then there's the one
in whom you sense such doom
and menace that
you have to cross the street.
You drop your metaphor
in the cups, because
you never know
whether any of them
will work for food,
whether any will really work
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