Just For A Day - Poem by Donal Mahoney
If you want to know
what it’s like to have nothing
just for a day
head for Skid Row.
Trade your suit and 20 bucks
for the attire of a resident
standing against a wall.
Buy a tin cup and yellow pencils
and go to Union Station in time
for the evening rush hour
when suburbanites with jobs
on Michigan Avenue go home
for dinner and a little HBO.
Flop down near the entrance
in your tatters with pencils and cup.
Wear Charles Bronson sunglasses
and hold high a sign that says,
“Will Work for Food.”
Count the briefcases that sail by
and see how many pencils you sell,
how many people even look at you
before the gendarmes arrive
and poke you with a baton
then walk you away.
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