Shiny Baubles.
By artis
bent over low the old black man hobbles in a crabwalk down the boulevard arthritic fingers gripping his Goodwill cane the cracks in the uneven sidewalk of the inner city reflect deeply on his face and down his ancient leatherneck inching wearily across the derelict landscapes pausing only once to stoop much lower than life already has folded and creased him to pinch from the stained concrete two copper pennies minutes of grasping and regrasping these so called lucky tokens studying them with a toothless grin remembering when they were worth so much more then the shiny baubles they now represented but his smile slowly fades as he finds himself wishing that Lincoln whose face is also worn and tarnished had held far more value to society at large then two cents worth of promises Old Abe's words of equality ring hollow now in the cavern where this old man's brain floats he could count on his fingers times when he shared close feelings with those of a paler color and the only thing equal at this point in his life is his pulse and his age toss the coins feel the rage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis Written March 7th, 2002 © on Mar 07 2002 04:08 AM PST 17 • 0 • 1
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"bent over low..."