Each day, he sat by the subway
his palm held out
his eyes gobbling
wishing the sun’d not be grotesque
nor its ray, the hell he lives

he was not born poor
He never lived rich
he grew in the suburbs
His heart was for the sub-ways
loved the truck
Emulated the driver

The sun was too bright
When he was born
Too dark when he grew up
Mild when he dreamed
Lost when he had a life

© Anariko Ikweri (His Blog)