What You Cross the Street to Avoid

You assume that a blind man can sing
and that he can afford a guitar.

You say, “Less is more”
to a woman whose children need new shoes.

You don’t listen to your daughter’s questions.
She stops asking them.

The one time I went without eating
my thoughts ran away from me.

Handed a bowl of soup, I felt its weight.
I nearly dropped it.

W.C. Handy’s song about St. Louis
doesn’t mention his empty belly

or how stiff his back was
from sleeping on cobblestones under a bridge.

He sang of a man whose heart
was a rock cast in the sea.