Charity

Poor, but employed
Able to pay his rent,
Through an overextended credit card,
Alex took out a 5.

He didn’t have a 1,
But wanted to give the panhandler something.
From charity
Or guilt?

Alex was close enough
To smell the Dago-Red.
Pre-noon and the poor bastard
Was gone.

Grasping the proffered five,
It took a moment
Before he recognized Lincoln.
When, when was the last Lincoln?

Alex watched the man’s face
Move from confusion to sobriety,
As the moment of surprise
Morphed into clarity.

The man dropped to his knees shaking.
Through tears
H clasped Alex’s hand
And kissed it.

Alex could not watch
Without being reduced to an epiphany
Wherein he saw the drunk
Recalling a time before.

Not wanting to dirty his clean shirt,
Yet feeling a compulsion to embrace the desperate creature,
Alex wrapped himself in his own arms
And wept.