Without Consideration

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.

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
thrown away?