| I got off the bus and walked up to the corner of sixth and Maine. As I stood there waiting for the light to change, I saw a man standing on the opposite corner. He's about 40, taller then me, and completely brown with dirt. His hair, his face and beard. His clothes hung off him in shreds. He held his hand out hopelessly to no one in particular. He appeared not to be seeing anything, like the world ended where he stood. People passed him without even a passing glance. I dug in my pockets looking for money. A mere quarter, fifty cents, a couple of bucks, is this all I owe this man? Why do these people walk by with no empathy, no feeling, no responsibility? |