Manuel
As Christmas approaches my thoughts are drawn to him
Soft-spoken, respectful, I enjoyed joking with him
Perhaps that lightened the burden of his monotonous, hard labor
I think it is no coincidence we’ve met on the street
The economy is bad I know; he is out in the cold
Forced to become a day laborer with hardly any results
Desperation forcing him to come with wife and daughter in tow
Begging for rent and food money, to be shown the door -- almost empty handed
He’d just gotten out of the hospital diagnosed with a hernia
Due to the bestial heavy labor of the past thirteen years
By chance we met one afternoon a few days later
I registered the alcohol in his breath; while he clutched a paper bag
The scent of desperation permeated like subtle cheap perfume
It was sad to see a proud, quiet man drinking away his sorrows
Remember when I advised you to acclimate to this country?
And to learn the language which is a necessity
I asked if he had a cell number to see if I could find something
He said with his growing family, he could not afford it
Evaluating his situation, I advised him on rental rights and legal options
When parting I said, operate on survival mode instinct
As Christmas nears, I ponder that a family will soon be homeless
With a baby in tow needing milk and diapers
Out in the cold, Nomads looking for shelter
Who will take pity on them on this Christmas eve?
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