This one is fairly spry,
ambling down the gutter
line as the cars build up
at the light. In the sun,
his face is grimed and seamed
with a past that has led
to this plight. Hoodie down,
his hair is entwined
with pollen and dust
kicked up from the road.
As he moves along, ahead
of the light turning green,
he waves and smiles at the drivers.
Very few respond with a hand
to his own habits or misfortune,
he’s now shackled by the constraints
that come from no longer being
part of the crowd, that conglomerate
socially shaped by celebrity events
and false news. Free to live now
as their dependent, he ekes out,
kicked to the side of their road.
As his sign says, anything helps.
Maybe even a wave and a smile.