Without Consideration: An Old Man’s Prize
There is something distinctly poetic
about the homeless.
The unclean, unshaven
the gaunt, old man.
Traveling down the road
with a rusted shopping cart
Full of dingy and worn clothing
and other odds and ends.
But the best image,
the one that lasts
Is of the Mardi Gras beads
carefully trimming his cart
and sparkling in the sun.
They are the stars in a night of filth,
likely his prized possessions
something untarnished
by the long, hard life.
I think, perhaps,
He values more the ragged, beaten clothing.
thrown away?
For the rest, however,
those beads are insignificant.
A treasure anyone can afford to buy,
then carelessly toss away.
How much of our lives are bought
without consideration.
and what have we