10/30

we suffer from?
old man with needle
behind ear
like cigarette
or pen
calls from beat winnebago door
'hey mail man,
you got anything for 2345?
i'll put a box soon.'
he is dressed
always slicked and suited
save for the worn slippers
on his feet
he makes his way with
elder son
with obese grand daughter
tumbling forward
no matter the morning
weather
to the local corner market
the poor buy in ones
one cigarette
one tall can of beer
it's pay day
my deposit
my check
didn't arrive
and i marvel how close
i am to the edge.
poverty drives my dad
to mexico
poverty drives my
inlaws
back to the restaurant kitchen
poverty drives me
to the streets
in circles
delivering
letters
day after day after
day.