by Medusa
© 2002 B. Howard, all rights reserved
I'll drop my satchel,
Prop my sigh against the bin,
Take one look around,
It's divin' time again.
Don't care no more,
To ease this ache,
Just need enough
To quell the shakes.
This grating cough,
Rattling in my bones,
Pick up my pack,
And feel it groan.
Movin' on again,
Around and 'round,
Taste of Mad Dog
Warms my patch of ground.There is no crayoned 4:20
On my cardboard sign,
And I'll trade my Gideon's book,
For some warming up time.
I don't take nothing,
But I'll make you a trade.
Don't consider it kindness,
It's a true friend you just made.
Some mac n cheese, and a smile,
A couch 'stead of the ground,
Mayn't see you again,
But I'll see you around.
Give you my Swiss knife and Bible,
You need both these days,
Whistle a tune, and a prayer
And be on my way.
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