Beggars

I was in a small wooded area

bordering a field

As I glanced all around

Ready to dump the

Shopping bag of

Cat food

I spied a green couch

at the far end of

the field

and a ragged man rising

from it. I dumped

the bag and started

back for the car.

“Hey!” the approaching

beggar exclaimed.

I calmly entered my

car and started to

drive away, but knowing

humanity and

realizing there was

a chance that

the beggar would

stomp or spit

in the food

out of spite,

I pulled into an

abandoned lot,

popped the trunk

and dumped more

dry and then wet

cat chomps into

a bag, doubled back

and dumped that

near enough

to the field for

Hungry cats to smell.

I saunterd back

To my ride,

A .38 on my hip

feeling as good

as it gets

theses days

–Read my book on Amazon

Even the Beggars Were Better Then

Driving home down

the dark city streets

after dumping the

cat food behind

the fast food place

I’m accosted at

the light by a beggar

with his massive hand out

he puts his dreadful

face too close to my

window and smiles

when he sees the

empty cat food bag

perhaps thinking I’m

an easy mark. I look

at the red light ahead

he knocks on my window

It’s not that

I dislike people of the

streets. It’s just that

entitled attitude coming off

a pure pest that keeps

the wallet closed. I’ve read of

times when street people

entertained first, then asked:

the Rev Gary Davis finger-

picking his big Gibson

Humming bird, preaching of

Salvation; Blind Boy

Fuller picking happy ragtime

tunes and singing of sin

back in the 20s and 30s…

of course guys like that

weren’t beggars, but even

if the one at my window

were trying to do something

instead

of acting like his grizzled

face alone deserved mercy

in a world like this, I’d send

a few bucks his way. But

that being not the case

I’ll save it for the strippers

and the cats

thank you

very much

fyodor bukowski, author of Mail Order Annie on Amazon