A Cardboard Box Story

A Cardboard Box Story

 

The Ill-est thing I’ve ever saw

Or have seen

Was a homeless man

Eating a ¼ lb hamburger supreme

Out of a garbage can

With hands that seemed dirtier than

the ground around it

I offered to buy him a cleaner quarter-pounder

As I watched him down it

and put the wrapper down

But he declined

Said my 2.99

Could get him a couple of cans of old E

I declined

And it bothered me

To see him walk over to that box

That he probably slept in at night

And he had this look on his face

like he had just given himself one more day

of life

And he may have been right

Because even under his three layers of clothes

I could see he was the size of a twelve year old

The only thing heavy on him

 was the soul that he carried

And I wondered then

if he had kids and was ever married

And if the weary shell that he carried

Missed what, at the time,

may have been a daily grind

I wondered if his wife left him behind

When he lost his job

If he cried or sobbed

 when it all happened

And if his kids came by sometime to rap

and or to look inside his cardboard box

and see if he was alright

And I thought about asking him

about his past life

But just that fast he was asleep

I guess it happens when your soul is heavy

and your body weak

Probably, dreaming of things to eat

Or things to drink

I began to wonder,

Ponder,

And think

And I convinced myself that

Life stories don’t come cheap

We just make them that way

And we treat people that way

So, then I stopped

And put the little money I had

inside his cardboard box

and walked away

 

Copyright 2011 Vincent L. Jones-Blakprinze