Guilty as Charged
planted on the corner of Maxwell and Lime
his sock hat and sunken eyes discomfort
his cardboard sign a handwritten assault
on the boundaries of private property
trapped at a red light I’m forced to endure
sad accusing eyes I try to disarm
by turning away and looking hard
at something I pretend commands my attention
angry angry angry he makes me feel
angry angry angry that he wants what’s mine
I fear his begging will wrestle away
my hoarded emptiness so full it’s about to spill
and when the traffic light turns green
I creep down the road seeing red
5 thoughts on "Guilty as Charged"
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They stand on street corners in most towns, many towns, the towns I am familiar with, and I stopped to read your poem before you drove away seeing red…
those guys are grifters, small scale con men. The Hope Center has all the resources in the world available for a homeless person who is not a complete a******. This is a fact. And I in a liberal Democrat.
this makes me think. Am I angry because:
I won’t give, he asks, there is a law, he has fallen this low? What? There must be some justification for how I feel.
Good job summing up your reaction.
No matter what I do or don’t do, I feel guilty
Gotta agree with Chappy. There is always some guy with the requisite cardboard sign at Broadway and Versailles Rd. It’s a silent in-your-face. As usual, your poetry stirs the pot!