An old man
with one leg
with his sole life
huddled into an alcove
on the ground a beggar’s cup
that’s long forgotten
the taste of margarine
what’s been the length of
the dry suffering
that’s turned your cheeks
to parchment
trickling down which today
is this spring’s first rain,
which you probably didn’t even
hope to see?
the coin slipped into the cup
onto which side do you fall –
hope is heads
despair is tails
just as in eyes
when you softly ask me
may I say hello to you?