Salvation Army Man

The Salvation Army man outside the grocery store rings his tin bell to Dean Martin imploring the clouds to open with a torrent of white.  He hovers near his red money pot, guarding it, guilting us to toss in lonely quarters whether or not we believe Jesus was someone's son.  When we pass without giving he stares us down with brimstone.  We drop our eyes to avoid the shame, make internal excuses about already giving even though we haven't. And won't.

© Poem Fix http://www.poemfix.com 2012
Photo: salvationarmyusa.com

Second Thought

The beggar is shaking a plastic cup
The coins dancing inside, making music
The lyric says drop money in so I can eat.
I avert my eyes and continue past,
Watching my breath in the cold
Looking back to see the poor man
Sitting on blankets
Still rattling the cup.
I touch my pocket to see if I have change
A quarter or two after my coffee
But I'm already several paces away
And I don't want to backtrack.
Guilt wraps its hands around my neck
Slipping its cold fingers under my scarf
I've been judged.
I double back to where the man sits
Still asking for money, desperate, demeaned.
I stand in front of him to ensure he sees me
Dig the coins out of my pocket
Lean down
Drop them purposefully
One at a time
Inside his cup.
I feel good.
He looks up at me and nods.
He says, I saw you walk by and knew you'd be back.
I turn and move quickly away
Afraid I've been discovered
A fraud
A giver only on second thought.

© Poem Fix http://www.poemfix.com 2012
Photo: John Manuel