This is more than a poem—
it’s a wild monkey,
slipping from the tangle
of an overgrown jungle,
boarding a train
bound for the big city.
Buying a hat, landing a job
with an organ grinder,
working eleven hours daily,
clutching a cold steel cup
where nickels plonk.
Strangers tithe
without lifting eyes,
faces screen-bleached
since slipping from
the Apple Store
boarding a train
bound for the big city.
