Spring 2006 SLAM! - Congrats to the winners - see you all next time! |
The Homeless Man's Bench I hear, and the sun has yet to shimmer, Businessmen sprint for the subway tunnel. I sit upright on my bench and witness Them squeeze like drops of milk through a funnel. The concrete surface beneath me quivers When the subway cars arrive in station. Gases come out and stir up my muzzle. I grasp my bench and feel the vibration. The cars leave, heading the city center, And I stand up to loosen a little. I start to walk and gain quite a distance But someone seizes my bench, oh brittle. The train is gone, there might be another. I grope for a bench where I can settle. The taste of miss is awfully bitter In this city life you must have mettle. |