one sure thing—
poor folk can tolerate rain.
you never see a well-heeled dude
standing out in a downpour
all mucked up on a dirt road
flagging traffic or shoveling rock
just to come back next day
to do it again
poor folk don't need coats
when the temperature drops to zero
rain turns to ice and you see them
working up an honest sweat
in short sleeves
given i'm a poet
a roof over my head
(not poor enough
to stand out in rain)
i've been submitting resumés
claiming i was plopped down
in a cottonfield
by a pisspoor mama
half-bent in a deluge
it'll make good press
you know:
—cottonfield
—hard rain
i'm aiming to become attorney general
maybe supreme court justice
wear a big pissy black cloak
lend a new flair to what's mucked
this tired nation's notion
of who is poor and who is not
_____The Poet SPIEL
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem