a bearded man with cane
came to me one morning
whispers were his words
i wish i could read lips then
so i extend my hand, gave
him direction to big store
a cab stop and picked him
i never saw him again, until
this morning, he's waiting, me
a silver dollar on his palm
flipping it like dryer tumbler
tag my shirt put in my pocket
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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