spare change

curled in a ball of rags,
blue eyed
with silk hair,
grey and matted, making
you think of a wet rat,
he lies beside
the Christmas store
with his god bless sign
so neatly marked
in black, a card
board placard,
which can fold
for easy carrying.
he wakes up
begging. he walks
and leans
into the day with
an emptiness to be filled.
he may be crazy, or
sane, who's to know
these days as you drop
your coffee change
into the ding
of his metal cup,
then turn to hurry away.