Heaven's Homeless

Tom Gralish, staff photographer for The Philadelphia Inquirer won a Pulitzer Prize for his photo essay on the homeless. You can see those photos here. I don't recall now which of these "1986 Philadelphia Homeless" photos inspired my poem. The photographer said that the homeless see themselves as "the last free men." (I know that cannot be said of all homeless persons, but I based the poem on Gralish's statement.)

Heaven’s Homeless

Don’t tell me not to kill;

I wouldn’t kill anyway—probably.

Don’t remind me not to lie;

who could a few white ones hurt?

Covet? Your words are wasted on me;

my neighbor’s goods are worthless.

You keep telling a good person not to be bad;

and it just makes me mad.

The warm fire in your shelter has shackles attached—

don’ts and oughtas tangled ’round welcoming arms outstretched.

I won’t pay the price of protection or be humbled for hugs.

Even in winter.

The sidewalk heating grate is plenty warm for me.

Keep your idyll of freedom;

I have the idol of mine.