18d (edited) • Share your Poems
Pride on His Back
I watched a man today
riffling through trash.
Searching for plastic to weigh,
he was in luck,
but it would be well earned.
The bins he churned
collected a uniquely disgusting
sort of refuse.
This was truck stop trash:
bottle full of piss and tobacco spit,
bags of literal shit,
countless cigarette butts
and rotten food.
In the strewed garbage
he assessed his hope.
He gathered his purpose
with a grimace
and placed his disappointment
back in the bins,
respectfully.
As if to acknowledge no one
would know he was there anyway.
And no one would care, anyway.
Then he looked up
as he finished his task
and our eyes locked.
Most would turn away,
hoping it'd pass.
But I did not pretend.
I glared in concern and
he stared back like a friend.
He smiled and nodded,
I nodded back.
His eyes told me
he did not want my pity.
His furrows told me
he did not care being judged.
He then tied up his ego
stuffed in a sack.
He got on his bike
and rode off with his pride
held intact,
tossed over his shoulder
to ride on his back.
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Pride on His Back
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