His tongue beats his toothless gums
As he makes a joyful noise
For the cold faces of people
Who pass by
He sings words unheard
In a verse with no rhythm
Sometimes people will throw
Nickels and dimes
But applause they never give him,
Except for the little Black girl
With the warm face
Who also gave tears
As her parents dragged her off
Though she stomped and kicked concrete
With her feet
His thick voice and odor
Fill Richmond city blocks
Like Philip Morris smog
A little cardboard sign
Sits next to him as
His confidant used to do.
A little cardboard sign
That reads
I SING 4 THE ANGELS
--J. J. Johnson (24)
*written in 1999
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