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Bag Lady
by
Jane Fox
That crazy old bag lady
who lives behind the gas station
doesn't know where she is going,
but she doesn't care.
She thinks one day she'll reach
that fruitful land of love and peace.
We all think she's insane, that old
bag lady, with worn foil on her head
as if it once existed as a crown of beauty.
The wrinkles frame her face like a
map of her time here, or the
deep cuts of love lost.
It's a shame she's out of her mind,
that old bag lady. They say she
couldn't handle it when her two
sons dissolved in Lyndon Johnson's war.
I suppose all those blankets in her cart
protect her from the wet jungles
where her boys forever rest.
The lonely abyss of her mind is frozen,
like a fossil of her only happy times.
Yeah, she might be crazy, that old
bag lady, but I do believe
her cause is meritorious.
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