. . .I am that paper napkin from Popeye’s. . .

                               . . . forever floating in the air on Highway 10. . .

. . .I am that old rotting empty can of Bud Lite. . .

                               . . . crushed on the side of Penn Turnpike. . .

. . .I am the broken branch in the pine forest of Minnesota. . .

                               . . .waiting to burn in the next fire. . .

. . .I am the family stuffed in a 40-year-old Datsun. . .

                               . . .looking for work as pickers on the west coast. . .

. . .I am called the panhandler, holding a sign, asking for a dollar. . .

                               . . .a legless vet in a wheelchair with no chance to get a job. . .

. . .I am the man in rags, sitting in the corner of the New York City subway. . .

                               . . .scared of all who step over me in the morning rush. . .

. . .I am that naked Jew just outside of Jerusalem. . .

                               . . .Hanging from that Cross!