Sin city
Las Vegas
made me sad
to see the people streaming past
the homeless veteran in his wheelchair
ignoring him like he wasn’t there
intent on tossing their money
into the void of the casinos
i gave him five dollars
he looked like a young Tab Hunter
and his voice was very soft and gentle
when he said, “Thank you sir.”
i tried to imagine what his life must be like
and i wondered where he would sleep at night
it made me want to cry
it made me want to grab
those thoughtless people passing by
and shake them and tell them
that what they are doing is a sin
and even though
i am now far from Las Vegas
that delicate handsome face
and calm tender voice
saying, "Thank you sir."
will haunt me
for a long time to come
probably forever
Mike Groves here. I had to clean out my condo storage unit recently, and I ran across an old box that contained our correspondence when you were incarcerated.
Won't write too much since you may not get this, but would like to touch base again. mwgroves@gmail.com
Liked the poem; rereading your letters, you never lost your humanitarian perspective as easy as it would have been.
Hope things are well. It appears as if they are.
Your friend,
Mike