it's not
a lack of compassion
or empathy
but i just can't keep
giving another dollar
to the large
well dressed man
on the corner.
he's there every morning
as i drive
to work.
he's tanned,
new boots, a nice
flannel shirt.
a well written cardboard
sign.
his nails look manicured.
i feel like with each
dollar
i give him,
gives him encouragement
to keep doing
what he's doing.
to not get a job.
is it mental illness,
or is he being clever,
being wise.
unlike us, punching
the clock
as we struggle
day in and day out,
to survive.
No comments:
Post a Comment