And to the man,
Holding cigarette butts in his hand,
Counting the ways he could make the most of his haul.
While scrounging the pavement,
Waiting for one to fall.
He lives off the smokes of many,
While the dying buy him more,
As their own lungs continue to shrink small.
Who can tell if either one,
Received the straw of the shortest or tall?
When you have those who eagerly pay for their death,
In amounts large and small,
As the poor take what they can get,
for no cost at all.
Hay's Corner 