that crescent moon is higher tonight,
as I think of Charles, and his
smug complacency, his wife's
Army injuries paid for by the
government, and his own medical
insurance, sufficient to pay, he
hopes, for any malady that may
come his way;
he is young, and oblivious
to all the monkey wrenches
that life throws;
he is too self-righteous
for his own good,
demeaning us homeless,
us working poor,
as he sits in his comfortable
chair, before retiring to his
comfortable bed;
and yet I still pray that
Charles never knows
the reality of having nowhere to go,
as I fear that he would not
last a day;
if only he could know.
June 4, 2011.
Copyright © 2011, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
