Welfare Woman

She rolled her eyes
like the Spirit was upon her;
a giggle, high and keen
pitched from her struggling lungs.
Beneath rags, blankets and torn coats,
her body waited to be discovered.

She asked would I walk her
to the breadline;
she was afraid of the old men's
toothless grins,

and honestly she tried to eat
the swill that God's jaded emissaries
were serving up,
but she was too hungry.

We beat a retreat to a hamburger joint,
bought sanctuary
for a buck twenty nine,
ate, smoked, cradled our thoughts,

somewhere a neon cross tells our story.


City of Brotherly Love, 1986