While I Get A Few Coins From My Pocket Poem by Gert Strydom

Yesterday there were young black men
standing in underpants
at the Apies river
and they were busy
washing their clothes
in the dark brown water

In one of the remote corners
of Sunnyside
a big cardboard box stands
at a shop’s entrance
on the sidewalk
and I see an old white man and woman
crawling out of it one winter morning
and they have got a half white bread
that they share with a white and black fox terrier.

At shoprite in Voortrekker street
a young black man
tries to sell fake perfume
and wants to know nothing
about removing his head
from the car’s window.

I place his goods
next to my car’s door
and tell my darling
to close her window
while he walks round the car
to get him out of the car.

At a pick-a-pay
there’s a small white woman
that’s a car guard
and always helps politely
to get the bags into the boot.

Then I realised
that if you just look around
there are countless people,
that life bites into pieces
and I wonder where
everything in this country is going?

While I get a few coins from my pocket
out of my pocket,
I feel guilty
to live like a king
and to see
others struggle around me.