Bums

JOE-ANNE McLAUGHLIN

BUMS

Bums that's what they see

though they'd never say so,

same as their parents before them

-us sitting up here on our butts

waiting for the right words to come,

with that look a face gets during a drought

when your eyes go dry, stuck on the sky.

We're enough to test their faith.

For why would God bring forth such

useless fruit, useless. And heavy, god knows

when they move us to the stretcher. And

the number of times we've called 911

is a disgrace. They come. See every wall

lined with books, the table cluttered

with prescription vials or the leavings

of whiskey and beer. What are they supposed to think?

Manuals and the good book that's enough

for any of us. And where is our family?

Why is it always the rescue squad,

do they think we're a taxi service? A drain

on the county taxes is what it is. Four crackpot

alarms for every one necessary. And they

are not stupid. They know who'd survive:

Come a serious power failure,

our books would burn. Come a famine,

poets would be the first eaten. I guarantee you

over in Wampsville our name is legend.

Comes on the register, they shake their heads.

The EMTs roll their eyes. There's a curse.