home of the free
oh, Calcutta on the Potomac,
where did all these beggars
come from?
I have my favorite,
a little man who sits,
yoga-style,
covered with a piece of burlap,
hat in hand.
He never says anything
until you give him something.
"Thankyou very much.
Very much likeyou.
Godbless you very much"
and he kisses my hand.
I wave my fingers backwards,
a dismissive goodbye.
I don't imagine it does any good.
But it does no harm.
He's a crazy, not a boozer,
and I fancy he’s good luck,
like a chimneysweep.
But oh where do they come from.
So many now.
I wonder this morning if it goes beyond
socioreaganomics, the HUD debacles,
and Republican ethics that put enrichment
of the tricklers-down
ahead of raincoats and rooftops
for the tricklees.
People should work for a living,
not beg.
And thinking of my own life,
I wonder how it has gotten so complex.
Taxes, demands, insurance forms, mortgages,
eyedoctors, interviews, office politics,
vehicle registration, nasty neighbors,
committee work, correspondence,
house-cleaning, parties, laundry,
table manners, checking accounts,
check-ups, bills, light bulbs, fill-ups,
push-ups, fix-ups, mowing the lawn,
good nutrition, continuing education,
staying employed...
Maybe humankind has just over-evolved,
and these homeless simply couldn't
hack the everyday bondage
of normal life in the Free World.
November, 1998