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'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
Copyright ©
Gershon Wolf
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