we see the dying die. i walk down the stairs and give them nothing everyday. as i was walking down 8th ave one afternoon, i was approached by a girl who was about my age. she was screaming indiscriminately  
"please sir! can you help me?! i have no idea where i am and i don't have enough money for a bus ticket home."

i drudged a drunken look up at her
i was tired
i wanted the bus ticket home
and the beautiful new york city girl you sit next to
you know
the ones they keep up in front
but they sit in back

she told me she had gotten on the wrong bus and wound up in new york city
just by accident
that she didn't have any money
and her family was worried and needed her back home

8th and 43rd
she wined at anyone who passed
with a terrified look
as if she was to be eaten or sacrificed

her story was unconvincing
i gave her twenty dollars to get home
i truly hope she did
but in my heart of hearts i know she spent it on drugs
she was a good actress
and should get what she deserves

after i handed her the bill
she asked
" oh my god , can i give you a hug!? please?! "
she grabbed me tight and was almost crying
she was so beautiful
in trouble
as if i had given her life itself

our elders do not understand the affect of there traditions
upon the truthful way of life
so we sit here and wither
victims of just being tired