You see a man on the corner
Clutching his bags as if it were all he had,
Holding up a sign for you to read.
Your head goes down in shame
As if he would disappear if he you did not see.
A voice echoes through the winter air
"Take pity on a poor tired man
A wife and children I once had
Job's were scarce and the bottle took hold.
All I ask is a nickel and I'll tell you your fortune."
A nickel was all he asked.
His voice rang in your ears like a moth caught in the light
As you went to the restaurant for a bite.














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Brent Russell [`Azildin]
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