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Mar 2018
I want to know some things, but
Nobody seems to talk about them,
These things that bother me.
Like what could the matter be
With people that drive by and see
They don’t speak to them and ask.
Why they are lying on the sidewalks.
If there were some, we'd lie on the grass.

Did your family die off and leave
Or will you weave a story of theft
Or madness, or just poverty?
Something has made you bereft.
Is it that you don’t have a home
So you must sleep here outdoors,
In slowly graying pants and coats,
Someone for richer folks to ignore?

Oh, I know. I am the same as you
Nothing much to lay claim to;
No car, no house, no cell phone.
Not even a magazine to thumb through.
I’m beginning to stink a little bit
And, my clothes are getting worse
Every week I live beneath a bridge.
And I know when my life got perverse.

So, maybe you can understand
When I blurt out my deep self-pity.
Is it me that has gotten so bad
Or is it that we survive in a city?
I remember when prices got high
And I could no longer keep up
And now I find myself begging for
A bit of warm coffee in a cup.

Once I was the stranger walking
That passed by here and saw you.
I wanted to help, but I did not.
Then, I didn’t know what to do.
Today it is more or less the same,
I don’t know how to live this way;
Mooching coins from strangers,
Scavenging for food every night
And sleeping like this during day.

Oh, please forgive me, I apologize.
I understand why you are scowling.
When I had a chance to help you
I averted my eyes and kept walking.
But now it is me here on the street
And suddenly I’m asking for sympathy,
To take pity, when I never really did,
When I never really qualified for any.
Brent Kincaid
Written by
Brent Kincaid  Kapaa, Kaua'i, Hawaii
(Kapaa, Kaua'i, Hawaii)   
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