Hobo Christmas Remembered
by Jack Peachum (Hannibal Ill., 1960)
Old toothless queen with rheumy eyes,
I’m seeing you again across a smoky fire,
near an underpass, hillside grey with weather—
you hold forth over a can of hot soup,
stopping to guzzle wine, mutter in your whiskers,
something about peace and love— a wink at the words!
Wind cries in the pines overhead,
snowflakes are dancing, falling on the siding,
a December afternoon turning bitter cold.
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