His life is a desolate desert
like a bedouin he wanders through it
constant search for
food, water, shelter

When the bleak desert becomes
frozen tundra
all he can do
is wrap his rags a little tighter
drag his feet through snow
his frostbitten fingers
struggle
to hold his bank account,
an empty cup

When the frozen tundra
becomes the damp rainforest
he seeks cover in the subways
only to be arrested
for panhandling
and as he marches
through dense jungle
the plants part for him
trying to avoid
his sour odor
Once in a while
a tree drops
some change
into his cup

But usually
people ignore him
thinking he will just use the money
for liquor
or weed
not realizing
that you can’t buy much
with a cup of nickels

And so the cycle continues
seasons go by
and the music
of jingling change
continues to flow from his cup
but his pleas for money
gradually die down
as he begins to accept
an inevitable fate
he is homeless