Sometimes you can do everything right
when it comes to being patient, listening and playing
with a woman and after so many years
that feel like a blissful eternity
she can still leave one 3am night out the fire escape and on a train
to look for something better.
Sometimes you can do everything right
when it comes to helping the homeless;
giving them good and listening to their stories
and maybe even helping them find a job
and still get hit by a bus
soon as both feet jump off the curb.
Sometimes you can do everything right
with a story, and it's a gorgeous masterpiece
of years of editing and chiseling each word
to paint a picture that would make Rimbaud and Van Gogh weep
with ******* exuberance
and still find yourself dying slowly, broke, in a homeless shelter
listening to a guy who will be hit by a bus
soon as he walked out the shelter
whose girlfriend left him at 3am.
This poem is mildly funny to me in some dark, twisted way.