I Can’t Afford to Be the Hero

I braked as the light changed from yellow to red,

second in line to turn.

A raggedy heap

of dirty clothes

perched on the guardrail -

a buzzard scavenger

with a cardboard beak.

I cocked my head to the side, and shut one eye.

He disappeared into my blind spot.

I had a brief philosophical discussion with myself,

about how easy it is

for the fed

to dismiss the hungry,

as I fiddled with the change in my armrest.

35 cents was all I could spare,

and 35 cents seemed embarrassing.

So, I pretended I didn't care,

turned, and gave him nothing.

I Still Can’t Afford to be the Hero

I gave two red dollars to

a man under a bridge,

then offered him,

"Try to keep dry!"

as an added bonus...

and rolled my eyes at myself.

So sincere.

So foolish.

Truth is,

I feel two steps away

from homeless...

and I know one day I may need

those two dollars returned,

and a few words spoken kindly,

no matter how silly they are.

Welcome Wagon

In a complacent

delusion of

safety and peace,

a blister of

reclusion and

entertainment.

Every Kite has

its string.

and every string has

its spindle

and every spindle is

held in the hands

of a man, woman

or child.

And they like the

vivid color and

they like to watch

it soar,

but there's

a definite science

to having something

wonderful and free

under your control.

Maybe I'm that toy

put to the skies

for all to see...

I don't want to

tell the world the end

is near,

but there is

no hiding place

for me.

Originally published in the Austin Occuzine