You see me
On the street
On TV or Video
With or without sound
And oftentimes your
Head lowers, eyes drop
And your stride increases
Hoping that when you look
Back again
I’ll be gone
After all
What am I?
But a mass of rubbish
And rags marring the beauty
Of your parks and streets
I don’t pay taxes
Own a gun or have a degree

But you see me
On grates and in doorways
On benches and trenches
Under bridges and byways
I am not good news
Sanitized and whitewashed
I am the fulfillment of the prophet
Jobs’ words (not his comforters)
Trouble comes to every man
Even in the Nation’s Capitol
So when you see me
Take heed as my spirit cries
From the shelter of open skies
For in the harshness of the element
Lies one not unlike yourself
For the winds of circumstance twist
And tomorrow may render you my fate
Reach out, pray, but do not pass me by