Reality by Guy Le Charles

Can you spare some change?
Can you spare some change?
Reality stepped up to me
While waiting for the train one night
And asked for some change.

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All wooly hair and beard with long fingernails
Resembling some unkempt, ethnic Jesus,
He offered me his story.
Bloodshot eyes reflected a possible future
As I passed him a dollar bill.
He spoke of broken dreams, lost in a bottle,
Using few words. Alcohol, Detox, Bellevue
Cutting like a knife through my fantasy.

In a flash, I saw my own life
And realized how lucky I was
And realized how unsatisfied I was
With that realization.
What is the revolution we envision if it will never reach someone like him?
Is there a poem we could write
That would change his life?

What kind of poem
Can put food into the hands of the hungry?
What kind of poem
Can remove despair from the heart of the broken?
What kind of poem
Can take away this feeling of helplessness
When I’m one paycheck away from being him?
And, if there were such a poem
Where would he go to hear it

His bloodshot eyes are moist now
And I look down at my hands because there’s nothing I can say to comfort him.

“I’m sorry…”
For what?
“Good luck…”
Yeah, right.
“God bless…”
What God?

Mistaking my silence as his cue to leave, He turns and walks away. He claimed he hadn’t bathed in a while, But the only stench left behind comes from me….

Can you spare some change?
Can you spare change?
Can you change?