Under the Access Ramp

Under the Access Ramp

Cane, step step cane, step step cane,
Around the front from in back he walks,
  His left foot matching the right, his left foot never ahead

He hobbles with a metal cane, grip handled,
Quad balanced on four black rubber knobs,
  It’s January and he wears a tweed vest with shirtsleeves under

Walking to the access ramp, the ramp that leads to the handicap door,
Where under he’s hidden trash bags full of clothes,
  Underwear, summer shirts, second hand, worn

Watching him paw through his bags, I fear I’ll catch ‘something,’
The sight of him and his life – rank wretched untouchable,
  Gasping weak – I’m losing breathe, I turn away

I have two coats but dare not give him one,
Have food for giving from last night,
  Yet resentment prevents my offering

Cane, step step cane, step step cane,
On the walk around back again from the front
  I pass him, we walking the same path,
as “Nice Sun,” he says,

I swallow, “Good day”

Untouchable and charity, two thoughts
Unconscionable,
  Immiscible to mind

I’m sorry
I’m scared