And he’s richer than them,
With ragged red hair,
Made his money on skin products,
He’s off to the Zoo on the community bus,
Blue suede and a white scarf around his neck,
He’s going to give a lot of money away,
Because he’s richer than they are.
Up north they speak a different sort of English,
Years of cigarettes have given them all cancer.
The windows are small,
Slits in concrete,
Enough to see through and notice,
Neighbours having tea.
It’s a miserable life without money here,
And under the ceiling that’s peeling,
The old man with cancer,
Who doesn’t like charity,
Is whispering that he’d rather have company.
Big-boned, raggedy spirited,
Awkward teenage boys playing pool at the youth center,
Are astonished at the amount the mans says he’s,
Here to give them,
And the thought that,
That shiny new thing could be theirs now-
To keep the roof from falling.
Tell me you wouldn’t smile.
evocative short poetry – words move