The duchess of Kipling
does not speak to me.
She stands outside
with her sweater and hat
and we don't even see.
The duchess of Kipling
has nothing to say,
for we forget to listen
outside a rushing subway.  
A simple "hello,"
is all I can offer,
and maybe a dollar or two -
nothing that helps
as much as we say
we all continually want to.
Her mouth hardlined
and shoes too small,
she's still surprised
I say anything at all.
As if "hello" and a sandwich
could give her a home.