Flying a Sign – By Chrystal Berche
Wild eyed woman, her hair a mess
Shakes as she goes person to person begging for cigarettes
A foot away an old man sleeps, his head pillowed on a graying jacket
‘Will work for food’ printed neatly on a sign tied to his chest
What place is this where ‘flying a sign’ is an illegal necessity,
men beg work from people passing by
and women trade in flesh for a place to lay their heads?
“Spare some change?”
“Do you have a dollar?”
“Hell I’ll be honest I just need cash for beer.”
Do you back away or give,
And how to choose who to give what too?
Passing three cigarettes the young man says “pay it forward”
to the old man who’d begged
and who knows, maybe he will
or maybe this is the day its being paid forward to him.
Waiting, I sit against the pillar, watching, writing
little group of us breaks into song every now and then
while a mans hauled away on a gurney
screaming about social change and political injustice
Security guard stands watching over us all
Still healing scratches down his arm from an out of control drunk
Raging ‘cause she’d run outta booze
Still he smiles and helps when he can
Laughs with the weary eyed lot of us stuck there for hours or days
“It is what it is,” he chuckles before he walks away
I’d have quit if I were him
After midnight the shambling junkies begin their zombie walk down the block
While we smoke that last cigarette before heading inside
Take one last look at the night, the bright lights across from the Ritz Carlton
Such an epic contrast
To the desperate figures struggling to survive the streets.