I gave a dollar to a panhandler today.
I see him every day beneath the thundering rail-bridge downtown:
His hair is peppered and his beard is stained
And he wears a weather-beaten army jacket.
I pulled a crumpled bill out of my felt jacket pocket and put it in his hand,
And smiling, said “Zeus bless you.”
The man smiled back, a three-toothed grin,
And his eyes lit up like dark stars and he chuckled.
His laugh was thin and dry.
He thought I was joking.
I wasn’t.
Zeus the Preserver, Zeus of Strangers, protect that man.
He is a stranger, a no-named nobody begging under the bridge,
While the shuffling, inhospitable crowd presses past him.
They ignore him, but you do not.
Merciful Zeus, keep him safe, and let me remember him.
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