Monday, January 30, 2006
The Gods of Generosity
She wandered under the bus shelter
singing a little tune.
I turned and smileed at her,
knew the all too familiar story.
"Hello, Brother,"
she says.
"Hello, how are you?"
I ask.
"I'm singing a song
and I have an umbrella.
I'm not doing too bad."
Her eyes tell the story
of suffering on the streets.
She doesn't have to tell me
but she does
because she wants to survive.
"I'm Tulalip from Washington.
We have a casino now,"
she tells me.
"Hey, I'm short 85 cents for the bus.
Can you help me out?"
"Sure," I say
and remove a handful of change
from my pocket.
I give it all to her.
"Thanks," she says
and moves on her way.
I watch
as she continues her journey
to the next shelter.
She drops the umbrella to the ground
and leaves it behind
without a backward glance.
She's like a spirit
not all in her body
but then who'd want to be
in a situation like that.
I watch as she wanders
in and out of the
neutral colored building
the next block down.
(Neutral, as opposed to natural)
She wanders in and out
of each man made crevice.
disappears
reappears
disappears
reappears
disappears
reappears
2.
"Sombody asks me for money
I give it to them,"
Martin (pron. Marteen) told me one time
with a grin on his face.
"My friends would complain.
'You shouldn't give them money.
You know what they're gonna do with it.'
'But what if they're
a spirit,'
I'd tell them,
'coming to check up on Martin
and make sure I'm being
generous
like I'm supposed to be?'"
3.
There is a man
singing on the Northeast corner
of Third and Bunside
in downtown Portland.
He faces West and sings old pop songs
as I journey toward the bridge
and the BOO.
"I've seen fire and I've seen rain..."
I've never been a big fan of pop,
but this morning,
I think I learned to love at least the songs he sang
only because
he was generous enough
to share his voice with us this morning.
His voice swims West
over the wet concrete
through the trees
past the ears of the audience
of fellow human beings walking down the street.
I tip my Che hat to you,
my friend.
A nice way to start the morning.
Thank you!
singing a little tune.
I turned and smileed at her,
knew the all too familiar story.
"Hello, Brother,"
she says.
"Hello, how are you?"
I ask.
"I'm singing a song
and I have an umbrella.
I'm not doing too bad."
Her eyes tell the story
of suffering on the streets.
She doesn't have to tell me
but she does
because she wants to survive.
"I'm Tulalip from Washington.
We have a casino now,"
she tells me.
"Hey, I'm short 85 cents for the bus.
Can you help me out?"
"Sure," I say
and remove a handful of change
from my pocket.
I give it all to her.
"Thanks," she says
and moves on her way.
I watch
as she continues her journey
to the next shelter.
She drops the umbrella to the ground
and leaves it behind
without a backward glance.
She's like a spirit
not all in her body
but then who'd want to be
in a situation like that.
I watch as she wanders
in and out of the
neutral colored building
the next block down.
(Neutral, as opposed to natural)
She wanders in and out
of each man made crevice.
disappears
reappears
disappears
reappears
disappears
reappears
2.
"Sombody asks me for money
I give it to them,"
Martin (pron. Marteen) told me one time
with a grin on his face.
"My friends would complain.
'You shouldn't give them money.
You know what they're gonna do with it.'
'But what if they're
a spirit,'
I'd tell them,
'coming to check up on Martin
and make sure I'm being
generous
like I'm supposed to be?'"
3.
There is a man
singing on the Northeast corner
of Third and Bunside
in downtown Portland.
He faces West and sings old pop songs
as I journey toward the bridge
and the BOO.
"I've seen fire and I've seen rain..."
I've never been a big fan of pop,
but this morning,
I think I learned to love at least the songs he sang
only because
he was generous enough
to share his voice with us this morning.
His voice swims West
over the wet concrete
through the trees
past the ears of the audience
of fellow human beings walking down the street.
I tip my Che hat to you,
my friend.
A nice way to start the morning.
Thank you!
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