Alison Cassidy - Urban Charity

Dirty dreadlocks <br />(are there any other kind?) <br />and fingerless gloves <br />sprouting nails <br />blackened <br />by tobacco and neglect. <br /> <br />‘Can you give us a cuppla dollars for a coffee? ’ <br />his voice wheedled like Uriah Heap. <br /> <br />I looked at my daughter, <br />groomed and city slick beside me <br />and felt almost embarrassed <br />as I parted with a twenty dollar note. <br /> <br />‘Cool, mum' <br />was her unexpected response. <br />‘You know they’ll spend it on drugs. <br />But, what the heck? <br />At least they’ve met someone <br />nice <br />for a change.'<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/urban-charity/