Hand Out

Homeless not helpless.

Sharing food amidst sidewalks Grey and littered with papercups and other peoples throw aways,

society's cast-aways and forgotten begin another day of survival...

A token of kindness doled out in servings too small for many,

yet just enough and more, for the part of civilization that no one notices nor cares about; unless it's Christmas or some other reason to exhibit some sort of humanity.

Camaraderie between strangers of the street that share much more than most will ever share,

and see more than many will ever see...or care to.

The wide-eyed wealthy gleefully toss pocket change at the poor,

as if they were tossing coins into a fountain and wishing for more...

more than their over-decorated homes and fat stomachs will ever need.

People unseen like shadows on the pavement.

A cart of memories and poor man's treasures, broken hearts and broken dreams all in one place.

Tied up tight, as if to keep the remaining hope inside.

Bags of various sizes, full of bits and pieces of life.

Plenty of baggage here...but out for all to view.

Nothing left to lose because they've lost it all.

Speaking in whispers to each other in a language only they can understand.

I lean in closer and am touched upon hearing their conversation,

littered occasionally with profanity yet full of humor and brilliance,

profound views...street poets.

The lower classes exchange silent thank you's and goodbyes with a nod,

and move on to nowhere in their nomadic journey travelling across street and alley.

©2007∞Copperhead