David Brooks Poet I do not know?

Me Or You

With tattered coat and mangled soul,
   I sit.
On cold concrete, and shadowed streets,
   my pit.

My soiled hands extended out, my voice
   cries, "A dime?"
My wandering eye peers out to them
   in time.

They rush, ignore, but know they see
   the crumpled me.
The city blazing with noise and motion
   and activity.

Steam from beneath billows through
   the crowd.
Taxis, limos, trucks with their calls
   so loud.

Can no one stop? Can no one see
   the blessing?
They are so lucky. So ever free,
   but missing?

Missing what's the point of our being.
Our existence.
Able to do, and live, and be
   without resistance.

Able to send one simple act my way.
   to fray...
One cost of one meal, one bill, one drink
   today?

Ah, if only I could be so true as to
   be you.
Would that I could show such a
   kind act or two.

Or would I too walk on?  
The world rushes by, my heart cries
   my spirit blue.
For I hear it clearly...but wait...
   ...or is that you?

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