Sharing
I bring a ham sandwich
into the park
ants spiders flies
caterpillars descend,
so many in a line
from my shirtsleeves
perhaps
they’ve been there all along.
Annoyed,
as you are
after emerging from a
expensive meal to
find a beggar’s hand
asking you to
reopen your wallet, how they know
to emerge when
you’ve more than enough to give.
All the times I’ve sat on this bench
with nothing to give but my presence—
how they appear
then too, not asking
but receiving me,
as are those
whose faces I’ve turned from
in shame,
at their generosity.
