Here’s
another day of idleness;
I sit with my ragged siblings
on a bench in the sun-
we wait for kind Christians to come and feed us
James B. Mc person sits on his horse,
green with age;
a triumphant seagull
stands atop the general’s hat,
surveying the scene
An army of schoolgirls
in crisp plaid skirts
sweeps by, oblivious
of the blank faces that watch them
Here’s a recent memory:
a man on the 90 bus
says
“I’ve never been jobless
in 60 years”
my shame is mute, unnoticed
My blue-collar muse
works overtime,
even in my stillness,
watches
the group of men
beneath the statue
chatting over big strong beers
One spent yesterday
canvassing construction sites
looking to earn his keep if only for just one day;
another
made twelve dollars bumming change
I sit alone, speaking to no-one
feeling like an alien
even here
A tall bronze woman saunters by;
fifteen heads snap to attention
eyes drawn by the roll of her hips;
she coolly endures a volley
of flirtatious remarks
& marches our of our lives forever-
that was it- the day’s entertainment…
Finally,
eight Christians arrive in a battered white van
bearing
soup & sandwiches;
they disembark & join hands
in a prayer for us
we accept it with blank indifference,
then line up to eat
General McPherson has witnessed
another day
of mute desolation;
a swollen orange sun
drops behind his left shoulder
as a whistling breeze
blows the day away
