"Hey Mister,
Mister as you can smell
ain't showered in months,
put a razor to my face,
nor even brushed my teeth
in about as many days
and the clothes left on my back
are soon likely to fall
with the coming rain.
But Mister,
Mister got brains in my head,
my hands know left and right
and my feet are pointed forward
as is my sight.
So Mister,
you must see Mister
so far down 'pared to you
and from where I stand
he'll never be there
unless he gets a hand up."
Jim sat out some nights,
not every night and never Sundays,
a fair part from the door
offering to everyone his spiel.
But he held no palm outstretched
had no beggar's cup, no cardboard sign
and if you waited after last call
maybe you'd find him leaving
not walkin' but driving
and not in one of the Chevys
Fords or even Porches,
but in a Mercedes Benz.
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