my self-image
and be like Becky, my neighbor,
who was voted woman of the year
in our cul de sac,
i decide to be a volunteer.
i buy a yellow sweatshirt
that has VOLUNTEER
stitched on the front
so that everyone knows
how altruistic i am.
i think about what skills i have
and how
i can use them for good,
contributing in a positive way
to society. after all it is
the Christmas season.
i'm very good at ladling
soup so i put my ladle in my
back pocket and off i go to do good.
i go down to the local
soup kitchen, but they're
already booked up with helpers.
why do all the homeless people
look so fat? their buttons are
popping off their shirts, i ask
a man who introduces himself
as Pops. he seems to be in charge.
are you hungry, he says.
split pea today.
yuck, i say and get out of there.
i try the shelters,
the halfway houses. dang.
i'm beaten to the punch
at each stop. the parking lot
is full of range rovers and good
samaritan big blonde haired women
with the sleeves of
their fur coats rolled up.
i'm about to give up when
i see an elderly woman
stepping off a curb and about
to cross the street.
i run over there and take
her arm, here we go miss,
i tell her, let me help you
across. she turns to me and
screams, whacking me across
the head with her umbrella
and spraying me with
pepper spray. she blows
a whistle and starts yelling
for help. police police.
quickly i run away,
sitting down in an alley
where a stray dog walks up
to me. my eyes are swollen
from the pepper spray.
i have some beef jerky in
my pocket, so i offer it up
to him, he takes it, but
bites my hand
before running off.
as i'm wrapping my bloody
hand with a handkerchief,
i set my hat down beside me.
within an hour it's full of money.
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