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callused hands
futily try to scrub years of broken bottles away
warmth can be found in tattered newsprint
that soup never goes as far as it should have
the obligatory sermon that never went anywhere at all
He waits at the bus depot
for people he'll never meet
to whisk him away to
places he doesn't belong
to do god knows what
in uncomfortable places
donning calvin-klein
hand - me - downs
before attending a
power lunch lecture
on the rising epidemic
of transients on the street
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I like the way that you express the fact that spiritual poverty spans economic divides - the rich man can be just as emotionally and morally bankrupt as the hobo. More, even.
This actually puts a picture in my head of a university professor. A good summsry of the way the world has become or is becoming. Keep up the good writting.
