I Envy The Poor Man

I'm envious of the poor man.
He sleeps under a canvass of stars,
and drinks up the dew from the grass in the morning.
He has no earthly items;
He can go anywhere with the clothes on his back, an empty plastic water bottle, and a radio.
He is not bound to a job, or bills, or responsibility.
He is not ashamed to go against the social norm,
and doesn't always shower or feel the need to shave.
He may wear his coat and beanie in the sun,
and collect cans and bottles from the trash,
but who is to say he isn't happy?
How can we look at him and pity him?
He lives off the Earth like the good Lord intended.
We say he must drink, do drugs, sleep with skanks in an alley.
Some may, but it's not originally by choice.
We pity him, chastize him, make him inferior.
For what purpose?
Because he isn't living the standard of life Society claims as appropriate?
Even then people aren't always happy.
They continue to want more.
The poor man is happy with his bottle of water and his radio.
He sees us in our cars, in the nail salon, coming out of the movies, and he knows.
I envy the poor man.

mental note: We think we know everything there is to know about the ideal form of living, but we have no idea. Not the faintest idea.

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