Photo by Dylan Thomas
Every raindrop hits me!
In winter night, my skin reads the newspaper
and I awake educated to the street
The cold colds
The robot beckons me to beg a coin
Dressing in my unhappy face
(they don’t know that the unhappiest shows nothing),
I jostle with the Coca-Cola man to get my tax relief
Later, I’ve got my bread and single cigarette
and I’m playing hide-and-hide with the older boys
Thank God, they don’t see the angel in my pocket
so soon I’m sniffing her all the way to Heaven
Sure, I’ve got no shoes and sometimes shiver
but I know that the only difference
between me and that man in the car
is that he’s always in Heaven.
[For the too many street children of South Africa...]
