the road taken

if i could write
a poem for
the man below
under the street
wiping dirt from
his brow
with the dirt
on his hand,
or the waitress
in pink bringing
coffee, or
the salesman
with his satchel
of bibles, or
cleaners. if i
could say a word
or two for
the woman at
the register,
the man driving
a bus, or weeding
the lawn. a single
word to bring
something more
something that inches
them towards
and easier road.
i would, as i
hope someone would
for me.