It Was A Saturday - Again Poem by Frank Papaycik

It Was A Saturday - Again



It was a Saturday - Again

Late - hot- that AfterNoon.
A man - but more a Manchild
Than one of twenty years,
Assaulted all the passers-by.

“Seventeen cents, seventeen cents
Goddam, that’s all I need.
I need it for a ticket
For a train that going to New York.”

This was the city living,
This was the daily busk.
None paid him - attention -
“Attention should have been paid.”

I had been feeding Sparrows.
They are a Gift from god.
He watches over Them.
He even told Us so.

If god spends time on sparrows,
How bout some time for men?
God didn’t offer him the seventeen,
But, neither, than did I.




I murmured something -
“Sorry, man, ” resumed my seat
And tea - nearby.
I almost forgot the man?

Sparrows are persistent.
They can’t pass up a crumb.
Food is their addiction,
They get it - when they can.

My common little house sparrow,
My little common friend - returned.
I threw the crumbs - She fed on them
She flew away - a run - again.

Sparrows are god’s gift to men.
I had to try to follow -
To see where she had gone,
At first with eyes - then with feet.

And then we met - again.
Still there - thin - heat- beaten,
Still asking for the seventeen.
I proffered him a quarter.

That quarter was my life.
“Join me for Tea or drink.
Sit down with me and rest.”
The sparrow never came again.

He came to Me - instead
We talked of ships and shoes,
Not cabbages - not kings.
I didn’t know him- well enough - for that.

Did I mention that the day was Hot,
Some 98 degrees?
His shirtless chest was flushed.
His face was morbid red.

His Words were Chaos pouring out,
Could his mind Cosmetic be?
But other things bemused my eyes,
And leisoned in my brain.

I should have told him - Go.
But Sparrows - god and Men
Fall victim to whims that govern Lives.
I didn’t tell him - So.

“My apartment’s round the corner.
It’s cool - the A.C.’s on.
Come up to the apartment
And rest awhile with me.”

He rambled on - Seventeen Dollars.
That’s what I now owed him.
“I gave it to you to hold for me.
Did you forget that, Dude? ”

Rude impertinence,
Such flippancy - from Him.
I did not know respect from dis.
He had Respected me.

I told him that my offer stood.
Come rest awhile with me.
The pills supposed - the liquor smelt -
Was Death too far away?

Ninety-eight degrees is really very hot.
I left - He stayed.
He talked to some homeless soul.
She had finished off my tea.

I watched from 12th and Locust.
Just two Black Men and me -
We talked, “of cabbages and kings.”
He walked to me - we did not speak.

Two men - one young- one old
Ambled down the street.
An exchange of names -
Each mumbled something indistinct.

“Are you a hustler? ”-
“Is that what You want me to be? ”
“Yes.” - “I am.” - We let it be.
He Slept - Lived - twice that day.

If life were ruled by economy,
Divine or Otherwise,
We never would have met.
He never would have followed me.

It was the one of twice.

I would have slept the Sleep of Peace,
The Peace that is - Eternity,
How rested I would be.
But we have miles to go…

Because of that encounter,
I never slept again.
A mist - a fog - shrouded my brain.
Narcotic - Crack -Cocaine

Could not have addicted more.
We are still walking - side by side
We don’t know where we go.
We don’t know if we can mend

But “taking up the Fair Ideal”
I cannot throw it down.
Sparrows still need bread.
Men are god’s Gift to Men.

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