tall
neanderthal man
on the corner
who's been there for years
with his
chair
and bucket, his sign,
saying God Bless
America,
brother can you spare
a dime.
asks me
for a business
card as he
approaches
my car,
the window open.
i'm thinking about a different
line of work,
he says,
scratching his beard.
so i give him my card.
sometimes he calls, i can
hear him
breathing,
his familiar coughing.
but he says nothing.
i don't know where this
might be
leading,
so i drive a different route
now.
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