Poem from the June 2004 Street Spirit

Starstruck

By Michael Creedon 

I get starstruck every day.
It comes from living on the street.
I got the blues in both my eyes;
I guess that’s why the ladies cry.
This pavement is so hot
You could cook an egg on it.
Or a human brain. I often do.

It’s not so slick, this life I chose.
I get starstruck by the sky.
It comes from living on the street.
There’s nothing between you and
Heaven when you ain’t got
A roof over your head.
I get starstruck by the night.
It seems it never leaves my sight. 

I’m just a nondescript hobo.
You’d never know that I’m a genius.
The lights go on when I enter the room.
But I don’t enter the room.

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