Homeless

The homeless man’s face

Was blank

He held up a sign–

One I had seen before:

‘Please donate to the homeless’

It read.

It looked as though

It were written in marker–

I tried to look in his eyes

And read what he was thinking–

As I have a bad habit of doing that–

He didn’t even blink.

I tried to understand how it must be

To be that poor

Yet I heard that some choose to be.

Choose to be homeless?

Obviously someone who has

Never been homeless

Started that rumor–

I guess.

The homeless man had pretty eyes

He looked as though he had lived a hundred years

Or more

His skin was smooth

But his clothes were worn

He looked like someone’s grandfather–

Was he?

The homeless man had to have been

Someone’s child

Long ago.

I wondered if he remembered his childhood.

I wondered what things he liked to think about

When he was alone.

Had he always been homeless?

Did his mother or father or brother or sister

Use to hold up that very sign

The sign he was now holding?

I wonder where the homeless put their signs

When they are sleeping...

Do the homeless ever really sleep?

Sometimes I wish that I could

Take a walk with a homeless man–

My mother always warned me

Not to.

But, if I had the chance I would.

Just to see what he was thinking.

I wish he would tell me his life story

Make me hold his sign for him

Just for one day.

I wonder how the people would

Look at me–

Me holding the sign in nice clothes

Standing next to a man in rags–

I think it would make people think twice

About donating to the homeless.

I wonder how long that homeless man had been holding that sign...

One hour, two?

Maybe he had been holding it all day long.

I wonder where he would go

Once he had enough change

To get a snack.

Would he just walk into the grocery store

Looking like that?

Would his face be just as blank

As he paid for his food?

Really, would the cashier make him pay?

A homeless man stands

On the corner of 73rd and 8th.

Will you donate?