He spotted me <br />getting out of the car <br />at the post office <br />and ran across the parking lot <br /> <br />could I spare a dollar <br />for a phone call home <br />Baltimore Maryland, he said <br /> <br />I gave him 3 dollars <br />he thanked me, his <br />eyes on the bills <br /> <br />he'd been through town a year ago <br />I'd given him a dollar then <br />for the same phone call <br /> <br />I gave it to him because <br />I'd been on the road <br />hungry and friendless <br />dirty for want of a shower <br />sore from sleeping on the ground <br />people looking the other way <br />the horizon close and bleak <br /> <br />I wanted to tell him it would get better <br />because it got better for me <br />but I didn't. <br /> <br />It doesn't always <br />work that way. <br /> <br />It was his business and <br />I'd been getting mail lately.<br /><br />Ray Freed<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/saturday-morning-5/
