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American Trilogy
I
She refuses handouts
afraid you will take back your charity
She will not wear clothes for the same reason
afraid you will come along and claim them
She wears the Wall Street Journal
the Wall Street Journal she wears
She lives in the old bus station across from the funeral home
watching spirits come and go (come and go)
On occasion she converses with them
about opera and Shakespeare and Chaucer
She used to be a teacher
a teacher, she was, in the past (in the past)
she used to have a baby
but the baby died and her husband left and her world exploded.
The goddamned thing exploded!
She refuses handouts
afraid you will rob her blind
as did man as did God
Now the city fathers want to "relocate" her
They held a meeting and declared her a public eyesore
With each breath she takes she brings down the value of life
for the rest of us (they say)
She refuses handouts
She refuses everything
(so she'll have nothing anyone will take)
But she will accept Popsicles and oranges indirectly
if your intention is to leave them for the rats
II
Every day
like clockwork
12:13 P.M.
he staggers into the Bleaker Street diner
and all the normals stare in horror
or turn away in disgust
Every day
he sits in the same seat
in the same corner
with the same game
the same pain
as all the normals leave
Every day
he shakes off the wilderness,
pounds his fist against the table,
and feels for a dozen princes
in his pocket
Every day
he carefully opens his imaginary menu
and says to the waitress
who crosses herself and keeps her distance,
"I'd do anything for a cup of Joe, a bowl of broth,
and just one reason to live"
III
He washes your windshield for a quarter
whether you like it or not
He relieves himself on the Torch of Freedom
just to prove a point
then he wraps himself up in the obituaries
to rest
Bonus Eventus was the god of happy endings
once the toast of the town
once every child's friend
now he lives on the streets
under the overpass in a cardboard box
hungry and ruined he snaps at gawkers
and waits for red lights and train whistles
just to make some bread
inside his head Armageddon repeats itself
every fifteen minutes
relentless spirits claw his soul
ogres beat him with nightsticks
dragons rape him nightly
evil witches cast their curses
with no fear of retribution
they steal his thunder cold
Bonus Eventus was the god of happy endings
he used to make cameo appearances
at the end of every fairy tale
just to wrap things up with a smile
to throw in a moral or two
but now he doesn't show up at all
he can't even make the bus fare
when he knocks on your car window you lock the door
you avoid his eyes
and when the light changes you leave him behind
in a cloud of smoke
so you can breathe easy
but as you step on the gas you glance in the rearview mirror
and he's still watching you
he grows smaller by the moment
soon to be forgotten
but he will always remember you
with those fairy tales on your lap
when you looked forward to seeing him
a million years ago
Howard Camner is the author of 16 books of poetry. He represented the U.S. in the Poet 2000
Sculpted Library, an international exhibition of the works of contemporary poets. He received
the first annual MiPo Literary Award in 2004
Email: Howard Camner
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