most days she sits
she and her small clean dressed daughter
on a narrow red concrete curb
in lengthening single tree shade
across from a specialty grocery store
she can’t afford
their cardboard box panel
black markered sign
explains their plight
their bad luck reasons
for begging.
a woman visiting from Canada
Vancouver Island
asks me-
Is she for real?
Probably, I reply.
she walks across the market lot
gives her some cash
That’s terrible,
she says returning.

later,
the store manager and assistant manager
both in blue uniforms
with regular salaries
medical benefits
401k’s
and paid vacations
hollow Howdy Dowdy faces

tower intimidatingly
over the small brown pair.
the store manager’s phone out
ready to call for back up.
she stands
half their sizes
pleads
then invokes a god’s curse on them
and their questionable legal grounds
and their bullying pasty privilege.
then mother and daughter slowly walk
to the less lucrative parking lot driveway.
upscale market patrons
shielded from sharing their discomfort
soon
a store approved
crisp white uniformed woman
with cross patches
and rattling donation can.
god bless greets,
and accepts
organizational monies
that won’t get
to the chased away destitute mother and daughter
hungry tonight.

(c)2018 Rex Butters