There’s a madman
sits at a desk
near 17th and G
gluttonous and gaudy
of manner and habit.

I used to see him
near the subway station
14th and Seventh
fouled and unclean
of body and mind
shouting nonsense at passersby
who’d cross the street
unsure if he was dangerous
or just sick
easier to let him be
than to confront
the disease inside
or the danger writ large
in his words and his deeds
desperate for a mark
and a season to grift.

Now skies choke with fire
dead children can’t scream
and the rich grab it all
yet we don’t use the mirror
to fix blame.