True Charity by ineptia

It first occurr’d outside a sandwich shop,
    A rest’rant—rampless—all the rage online,
    My bestie Freya gone to fetch our slop,
    So sat I did outdoors (as though canine),
    And just to morph this minute’s minus sign,
    I toed my phone ajar to check my mail,
    But soon as PIN’d, I heard this grating line,
    From gleaming glasses-Gandalf-ponytail:
“Oh wow, my dear! No arms, short legs—you still prevail!”

So rudely dumb and weird…yet nice to see?
    Because I spied an extra bit of hook:
    Inside his palm he held Ol’ Hick’ for me,
    And eager was The Grey to have it took—
    A fool I’d be, lose leaf from my notebook!
    So grin I cast from down below this man,
    And reach’d four toes to clasp his cash forsook—
    “Uh, thank you, sir,” was all I could deadpan,
As made I this my profit first in Arbor’s Ann.

A hoot we had, when rye arriv’d with Frey;
    How rich I reap’d with just my capping hands!
    On campus grounds we munch’d upon our hay,
    Accomp’nied by the usu’l looks and scans,
    From nearby strangers staring strangely—fans?
    Would they same pay as watch me lean and nudge
    To eat this meal, what with so much me sans?
    My twenty here augurs a bougie budge’
In ’sp’ration porn to busk—but who am I to judge?

So next of days I steer’d my chair approx
    The site of yester’s lib’ral-minded gift,
    To park myself beside a black mailbox,
    With cup of couple coins and bills—my grift.
    And thus it was I then began my shift:
    Attend my courses looking down through Zoom;
    But when an abled coos at me, I lift—
    Perform’d per form; I strove my best to gloom,
Fulfilling all the fancies frail of those who loom.

    •    •    •

I only left to empt my cup of change
    Which ranneth over after just a class.
    “A lucrative street-stunt that suits the strange!
    And damn those selfish marks—as kind as crass,”
    I joy’d on home, and bobb’d upon my ass,
    “Since all they see in me are tragic faults—”
    Then vision blurr’d as rain erupts on glass,
    And all my speed and glee were met with halts—
The Kaaba of this Mecca’s “eh,-pathetic” schmaltz.

It never felt as plain as did that mo,
    How most the Earth uncares its cares with tears;
    In-diff’rent times, the same it’s been, as though
    Us crips Capernaite were always fears,
    Tools us’d by hale to banish dread with cheers—
    Does Freya view me in this with’ring light?
    When telling jokes at night? Imbibing beers?
    If knew me not, would she donation write?
For what’s a friend but manner’d, “mindful”, fetter’d fright?

Reflect upon this freak I did through pane:
    A bulk of straps and cushions ’round her wrapp’d,
    A pale small gal whose silly genes constrain
    “Anatomy” to meanly mean “Adapt”;
    And brief as bod, her life was surely mapp’d:
    To just be sat in front of others “more”,
    To just exist if someone need be slapp’d—
    “You see? If she can scoot, your life’s no chore!”
To just be just me, not me, not—god, what’s it for?!

My shoulders—smooth’d—remov’d some drops from eyes,
    Which met my “gooble gobble” loving cup.
    I mov’d to kick my chair’s cupholder’s prize,
    But stopp’d my wind to whack as look’d I up,
    And saw a scruffer ’cross the curb with pup—
    A Native man who scribbl’ng doodles drew;
    The dog in lap, and both seem’d fain to sup.
    I thought, “Why not in toe bestow to you?”
And skid through rows to meet ’neath mural blue.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said compos’d as song,
    My foot off ’stick and pinching paper drink
    With many metal icecubes clinking strong,
    “I’ve this largesse to give—I won’t rethink.”
    He rais’d his face with blinded orbs to blink,
    And saw not form but from my voice what’s me—
    Then shrank I did at sight his sightless ink:
    He’d drawn my visage—mine—uncannily,
But more determin’d; fiercely steady; happy—free!

“Why thank you, miss,” out stretch’d a hand to-ward
    The spook’d subject of artful study his.
    A smile then struck his weather’d mug as stor’d
    His boon inside his Army jacket’s frizz.
    A portrait proud—I had to quest this wiz:
    “May ask, just who is that you’re rend’ring there?”
    Unvision’d vet let out a laugh, “This is—
    She is someone what needs I call ‘The Stare’;
I feel out faces from the planet lacking care…

“I cheer them up, and try to give them strength.”
    My shoulders met my cheeks again—in joy,
    To see true Charity at naught-arms’ length.
    “I don’t like telling folks, so’s not annoy,”
    Continued he, as pet his furry boy.
    I ask’d his name, and Will was call’d the dog—
    “And Elu am,” he tapp’d his tags’ alloy.
    If he could see how much I was agog…
“Uh, Elu, what—” I watch’d the toy in Will’s jaws jog—

“What if I said that woman look’d like I?
    Could then I take a picture with my phone?”
    A second strike of twinkl’ng grin said hi,
    As Elu roll’d his canvas up breastbone—
    “’Tis yours, my dear,” he said from cobblestone,
    And bade me gain this good and great baton,
    Which grip I did with ’droitness dearly known—
    A couple phocomelic toes upon
My startl’ng lodestar, mirror’d now, that’s drawing dawn.

    •    •    •

It’s been five months since first I play’d with Will;
    And Frey and I’ve expanded that my “scam”:
    We help unhelp’d beyond “Here, take this bill”;
    We learn their names; we urge them say “I am…”—
    Is each well-wish dol’d out a flim-and-flam?
    Or is there something there to flint a spark?
    We try to tear our Arbor’s logic jam,
    Inside and out, and light a bit of dark—
I josh to kids with Frey on how I met a shark.

End of “True Charity” by ineptia

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Pub: 07 Apr 2025 19:54 UTC

Views: 163