Tags
alcoholism, Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, homeless, illness, kindness, poverty, psychology, Sociology, unconditional love
Dear Silver,
I miss you
(your cap on the sidewalk)
panning in front of Starbucks.
Your regulars miss you too.
Out of respect,
nobody’s using your spot —
Joy sees to that.
Eventually,
someone from the family,
(someone you’d approve of,
maybe Little Jake)
will carry on
where you left off —
serving ‘good mornings’
with a side
of smiles.
I miss
our conversations,
seated on storage boxes —
you’d light a cigarette,
sip your beer.
We’d discuss friends,
adventures from your past,
the Chateau Lafayette.
Some of the guys
were too upset
to attend your funeral.
I know you were there
as the group congregated
at noon, with the snow falling.
Albert still cries
at the mention of your name.
Sometimes,
you’d sit alone on the curb
as Shaggy barked.
I’m not going up there,
you’d say,
that damn dog
is barking her head off.
At those times
we’d wonder what you were thinking —
just staring off into space.
That’s just Silver, zoning out,
somebody would say,
He does that,
sometimes.
Buy my book for $0.99 — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home; Conversations with Street People
http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS
