12-29-2014, 03:25 AM
I saw a tom o’ bedlam
by the freeway off ramp.
The figure had no human form,
But he was assembled from a wispy visage.
His penury may have been mingled
With an itch that kept him from the salvation army,
but there is no right or wrong here,
only a figure that I see a few times every month.
I place his outline, hidden, for remembrance.
Then I see him with his cardboard sign
Displaying letters that are done uneven in a black sharpie,
And somehow falling in-between a set of nonexistent lines.
Regardless of the blaring sun that makes a chrome rim blinding,
He’s there absolving all the guilty who seek to buy salvation,
And you can hear him selling friendship with a bit of slang.
by the freeway off ramp.
The figure had no human form,
But he was assembled from a wispy visage.
His penury may have been mingled
With an itch that kept him from the salvation army,
but there is no right or wrong here,
only a figure that I see a few times every month.
I place his outline, hidden, for remembrance.
Then I see him with his cardboard sign
Displaying letters that are done uneven in a black sharpie,
And somehow falling in-between a set of nonexistent lines.
Regardless of the blaring sun that makes a chrome rim blinding,
He’s there absolving all the guilty who seek to buy salvation,
And you can hear him selling friendship with a bit of slang.