Amongst all of the cardboard gardens,
Are the products of failed flowers,
Pulled up by the roots and tossed in the trash,
Where they will scrounge for their next meal,
Waiting for the rain to come and bring their next shower,
Nightcrawlers,
Call them what you will,
What they have not been called is what they are,
“The greatest surfers in the world,”
Never asking, heh, why he,
Doesn’t simply return to Hawaii,
Surely it would take them back,
Forgetting,
Hawaii made them the nightcrawlers for which we condemn them for being,
Avoid eye contact,
Hide your wallet,
Sorry, no change today,
You wonder if the red light could be any longer,
The inconvenience of looking your fellow man in the eye,
Red lights last a lifetime for nightcrawlers,
No worries though,
For the sun comes up,
As do the cardboard signs,
Ready to get passed by a new set of people,
Ignored,
Forgotten,
Nightcrawlers are used to this however,
It is what made them the greatest surfers in the world,
Because, after all,
They ride the waves better than anyone else.