They walkslowly
        in the constant eye ofthe tornado
    the world spins aroundthem
            clutchinga brown paper bag
        or perhapsa child's hand
     or the can withwhich they beg
They walkslowly
        through this unrealworld
            aworld with littlemeaning
        realmeaning
         thatrevolves around money
   to have or havenot
     in their torn, tatteredclothes
and battered shoes
They walkslowly
                from soup kitchen
tocorner
               cornerto shelter
    the have-nots of thisworld
             seeklove from anyone
     those whohave or have not