I Don’t Fly
Walking to work
There was an abandoned cart
With signs inside
The cardboard kind, dirty
Unfinished
With luminescent paint
Where did they get that paint
In capital letters
I DON’T FLY
That was it
I don’t either
What’s the point
Should I give money do you need money
What are you telling me
I know we don’t fly
Still they plead
To remind me
Someone somewhere
Made it such
I don’t need to fly
Or plead on streets
With signs and paint and carts
Why me
Where did they go
Here is their cart
I realize then
They don’t fly
They cannot fly
Away from the dirty sidewalk
Though they have tried
And see me fly
On my way to work
Past the cart with the signs
The chosen message
Insisting begging pleading
Not money
But understanding
I DON’T FLY
You know but what do you expect
Wow. I love how simple and powerful this observation was. Love the poetry also!!