The idiot who begs at the traffic lights, near my home,
has a body hastily and wrongly assembled;
flailing arms and a sideways walk.
His brown eyes are are scary though,
deep within angry flashes,
a burning light that of an eagle caught in net.
When lights are on green
he folds restless arms across his birdlike chest
looks up to a blasé sky and pray
but for whom?
For us, or to be set free
and be an eagle once again?