When you paint your walls
with nonsense, and the sky outside
reflects your feelings, sensations
tiring, discovering floors and no ceilings.

And the faceless poor man
doesn't want your tips
but your hand, he wants to try
standing, because he's tired of kneeling.

When you insure the beggar's
confidence with a dime, hoping
he will ask you to stay awhile, then
you see he's not the freak, you are.

It is your mind that is on trial,
the beggarman dying, you slowly
take up his cup, and begin the eternal
begging for just one single smile.