February 16, 2011
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You sit
Staring at me intently as I ingest my food
Cock your head to the side
I know how you operate
You are a peasant on the street
Sign saying “will work for food”
You hold out your hat
Your sad eyes
Attempting to have passerby’s spare some pocket change
Your techniques don’t faze me
I know you are not malnourished
But you remain
Waiting for me to drop a morsel of food on the linoleum
Which you would proceed to consume with gusto
Leaving nothing
Except a wet spot from your tongue
It will dry though
And you will patiently wait
Until I finish my meal

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