american business card

the pitchless hum
of an idling greyhound
combines with the suffocating
fumes of diesel fuel
to soak the night air
with noisy poison

a skinny panhandler,
wearing a kid’s
spiderman tee-shirt,
sits crumpled, like lost luggage,
just outside the brownsville
bus depot

hard times & places
chiseled
across his face
like engravings
on a tombstone

two hollow eyes,
like piss-holes
in the snow,
stare blankly
at the casual caravan

of human traffic
as it flows along
with its totally
assured sense
of destination

there’s a wrinkled
square of cardboard
at his side --
a kind of faded-brown,
contemporary

american business card
with the fractured
graffitti,
“out of work”,
scrawled across the front

one look at this guy
& you know he’s
done for - & knows it --

& yet, his accusing eyes glare at me,
as if i could somehow save him

what’s going on here

can’t someone help this man

right now,
before this humiliation
goes on any longer

somebody has to put things right

is there no one
who can put an end
to this hopeless unraveling --
________________________

the pitchless hum
of an idling greyhound……………………………………