This is a featured reading I had at The Center for Inquiry in Amherst, NY. I were gifted this poster of Jack Kerouac by Ken Feltges, a most honored and respected educator, writer and human being. He took it down from his wall in a classroom where he guided students on the written word. Below is text for the last poem I read: "This Is My America" Have you ever looked into the eyes of a homeless man? Caverns, deep and knowing. He sat, humbled beyond comprehension, child by his side - I knew this man were homeless not due to attire, due to suitcases, 5-6, surrounding him on all sides. His child quiet, played with a toy - At this moment, observing, I wished I had something to write with so I could relay the beauty of this man and his child to the world - You see, he were dressed in a 3 piece suit. This man, now homeless, had more dignity than those of us who reside in luxury - How utterly helpless I felt bearing witness to Father and Son, waiting in line, their number to be called, eventually, like all the rest - Life is a conundrum, placing us precisely at the exact unexpected moment in time, slow, like molasses, to teach us lessons - A number called, finally. I held great hope hidden deep within my throat for the child, homeless by circumstance, never once complained - And I overheard, "We are unable to help you, sir. You need to have an address to get aid." The man never rose his voice, the child, still - "I just lost my home", the man replied. "I came here because I have nowhere else to go. My child is hungry." - Yet the same monotonous response came from behind the bullet proof glass. "Sir, you must have an address in order to receive aid." - He rose then, man and child, no home nor food and grasped the hand of his son. The child understood. Both of their eyes, showing signs of no sleep - They walked out of the door dragging all they owned onto the frigid winter streets of Buffalo. I never saw them again, this man and child - I hoped he were "just visiting' or that the clerk had made a mistake, but no. This is my America. Man and child, 3 piece suit, and the cold - And even now, safe in my home, I envision them both, Father & Son, begging for things that should be given and I am ashamed at myself - Ashamed for not walking to him, for observing, ashamed for not whispering five miraculous words: How can I help you? © Susan Marie