Jim Babwe

Pull My Finger

I'm standing near the freeway--
holding up a sign.
I've lost almost everything.

The duffel bag beside me
in the dirt
contains everything that's mine.

Pull my finger.
I'm not kidding.
You won't smell
a thing.

Colorless
and odorless,
it's all fresh air this morning
because I haven't eaten
in three days
probably closer to four--
maybe five.

I'm actually lucky--
fortunate to be among the living--
lucky to be alive.

I'm standing near the freeway--
holding up a sign.
I've lost almost everything.

The duffel bag beside me
in the dirt
contains everything that's mine.

If you don't want
to look at me?

Okay. I understand.

But listen when I tell you
one lie accompanied by one signature
places you right next to me.

You will know immediately
how my circumstances 

came to be.