Written by Philip Brent Harris
He sat on the ground, legs splayed. A hat between them, turned upside down. Several small, lonely coins tossed in. Whether his, to prime the pump, or the largesse of random passers-by is impossible to detect on scant clues. If he looked up, you might know, but he stares at his restless foot. that jiggles back and forth and back. He’s alive, you tell yourself, so you believe, today. You drop a buck into the shadowed depths of his trilby. Tomorrow, really most days, you walk by. You look the other way, contrive excuses. He likely wants cigarettes and booze. With so little, certainly he may choose. You know, deep down, he wants to be fed. Food, yes, but he needs love and human kindness. This morning both he and his hat are gone. You hope he got breakfast, fear he might be dead.
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Philip Brent Harris lives in Pacifica, CA, with his wife and cat, Pumpkin, and has a degree in screenwriting. He was honored as the coda in the print anthology: Humans in the Wild: Reactions to a Gun Loving Country, Mythic Picnic. Two poems appear online on PoetryXHunger, two with Silent Spark Press, one online and one in Amazing Poetry 4. His Micro Chapbook, Pieces and Parts, will be available to download from Origami Poems Project in August.