I Live Under A Bridge Poem by Ruben Tover

As we drive in our luxury car,
I often wonder who they are.
They don't live high on a ridge.
I stopped and asked, 'Where do you live? '
He replied, 'I Live under a bridge…'

Elements of Weather do occur,
Tarps of plastic dry for sure.
Possessions fill, grocery cart,
'I need water in my plastic jar.'

His bright brown eyes, a history of life.
A wrinkled face, shows no strife.
He didn't ask, I handed him a dollar.
His cell phone rings, I wonder, who's the caller…

'Hello all is well…', As I walked away,
'What the hell…'