'Spam Fillet'

Still living 'bove ground inside a box, outskirts of town Begged every day, helped him pay for coffee, a smoke, a tin of ‘spam filet’ Gave him two quarters every time I drove by Thought of myself as a ‘generous guy’ Other drivers zoomed past him hand closed though many were poverty-opposed Today, I noticed his face seemed drawn I pulled over, said ‘Get in; What’s going on?’ He tried to talk, words struck in his throat Instead he spit blood on his old shabby coat Drove up to the nearest ER Got him into admissions When I understood, he’s a public charge To say 'Sorry' ~ I turned toward a stiff in the rigor mortis position