"Too Sad to Laugh at Abject Poverty"

The elder transgender cripple breaks stride
continually with adjustable canes,
unable to stand in one spot to beg
for spare change, money for the tip jar bride.

She hobbles forward to confront her past,
demons for tip jar bride grooms who take pains
not to notice her hopelessly broke leg,
equally destitute, speaking too slow.

Satan sweeps the streets in the Loop, aghast
at the hustlers, bustlers, chattel rustlers
swarming the lake front avenues at noon,
too soon, too soon to swoon, a horrorshow
freak show of clowns in long gowns, town guzzlers,
married to the bottle, hold tight babboon.