You've got the wrong man,
can't you see?
Don't stop me,
you unemployed at the mall,
wanting to sell me cards and envelopes
and appealing for coins
as you lean against the railing
your legs spread out and placards declaring your intents
Don't call out to me
and offer me the deference
you might give
an employed man
for you make me uncomfortable
and I don't want to disappoint you
You've got the wrong man,
can't you see?
And do you not see
I have denied you not thrice
but more?
So don't look at me.
Don't look at me
for I've nothing to give you
(though I've given when I could)
as you and I are the same
except perhaps it'll be some time yet
before I too declare myself
with cards, envelopes and placards.
(from The Migrant - notes of a newcomer (February 1997- July 1998))
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
again a practical thought of life... regards