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the one without legs reaches
up as if he would have us pull him
out of the sidewalk

we cannot pull him
our money will not help
the big-chested man whose legs
are folded in front of him
like socks

when we turn an old man
is making an earnest expression
with half of his face
two sisters remember songs
behind their white eyes

where do beggars go when the streets
are full of rain
the man in a cart rowing

his half-body away
with his hands

the girl on wood crutches
doing her slow breaststroke
into our dreams

-Wesley McNair