I went on a walk
to a place beyond the road
to thick of the thickest
of a far off abode

I came across a hobo in the forest
He was scratching an itch and drinking a beer
He never saw me...
Still, I stared, then sneered...

I watched him from behind a tree
and carefully studied his quiet plea
A somewhat confined man of something few
but poor and destitute are nothing new?

He didn’t care about his hair,
he didn’t wash himself
He didn’t seemed fussed by anything much
He just sat by his fire under his hutch

Now I think he has friends in this outback
because I saw a mat at the foot of his shack
that said "Welcome",
then I thought about that...

And I saw on the doorknob
in what I heard as a shout!
It made no sense, comparing
for this sign said very clearly,
"Keep out!

He had pots and pans
and little beer cans
lining each side
of his path going up

He sat by a cave
at the bottom of his hill
and sat by a fire still scratching that itch
Then, I wondered if this hobo was ever rich?

I looked all around
and at first... didn’t see
All the animals that were surrounding him
were now all around surrounding me!

I saw a turtle, a hare,
an owl and bird.
I saw a coon
and a beaver, a coyote and bear
I saw a buck and a snake
a frog in a lake
I saw ducks and fish
and spiders in his dish

He was cooking something
while still drinking that beer
Unshaven look
with a very long beard
His clothes were rough,
but cute in a way
Dressed in a checkerboard shirt today

Finally, I got the gumption
to hike up his path
lined with beer cans and punks
And when I got to the top and over the cave
I saw three little cans where an American flag waved

His coon hat hung there proud out on a tree
And I saw a kite tail spreading its wings
Pine tree lined leas on another land
I asked myself, Did he ever really give a damn?

I wondered if he lived here by choice or dismay
I wondered if he even had a lover today?
I wondered if he was a dad somewhere?
but then I thought about his place over here

Content on this forest floor
While his fire is blazing, his inner core
Maybe, I thought that he couldn’t hear
because I’m thinking maybe he’s not really here!

The poor, the afflicted, do they even exist?
...or are they just visions for us not to miss?
Next time I come across
A hobo in the forest
I’m gonna ask him
who is the poorest?
Me or him?

Copyright October 2006
Kimmy Van Kooten

original pen and ink drawing
"A Hobo in the Forest"
by Kimmy van Kooten
copyright 1996