Only a hobo knows
The spot under the bridge
Where decent men dare not go
To make excuses at a moment's notice.
The train of thought missed by napping,
But hobos know what experts never learn
That rudeness with no honor
Is a fiddler without a bow
At a jig he doesn’t care to go
When a camp fire’s all he needs
Without invitation or host.
He is easy-going in his cares
But careful of shifty-eyed agents
That break promises to protect their own.
Not a damn ride for a hobo
In an abused class used to being passed over
Where no appointment holds fast
And years until he makes a stand
Yet his still life's oh so grand;
That gypsy loves him head to toe.
So next time you pass his way
Leave a message he won’t answer
For this hobo knows a thing or two
And neither is any use to you.
He knows to not get too close
To those that meet him on the road
To nod at fellow travelers when they say:
"I know a safe place tonight to stay
under the bridge of expectations."
October 19, 2020
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Copyright © 2020 by David Barry Temple. All rights reserved
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