A small boy stands in the city streets
Holds out his hands to those he meets
And there is a pause in time
As I search for a dime
To place in his hand
So I can pretend to understand
What he is going through
And I don’t know if this happens to you
But the minute he gets out of view
It is out of sight and out of mind
Until the next time
I am on that street
And maybe we meet
Then there is a pause in time
As I search my pocket for a dime
So I can pretend
To understand . . . .
© Ix-Chel Poot
© Ix-Chel Poot
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