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The Pizza Man
Yellow discolorations faded down the siding,
The shingles of the roof were pasted with dark stains,
and a garden
with weeds gnarled in and out of the prickly old bushes.
Upon entering the household, there would be some shirtless teenage boy, who reeked of body odor and vodka.
Sometimes he was a member of the household,
sometimes he was just a neighborhood kid,
who came over merely for the benefit of a lack of parents.
They would take the pizza,
without leaving so much as a small tip.
Then they would swagger away
and shout “YO WE GOT IT” to their friends
through mouthfulls of cheese and pepperoni.
On rare occasions, she would open the door,
She would usually leave a tip
and with a sad smile, take the pizza.
Once she batted her eyes and invited me to stay.
We flirted for a while,
and right when I thought I would get my day’s earnings,
she asked me to leave.
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I once went on a service trip, and the people in the trip talked about the experiences they've had with poverty. One of the women there spoke about a house she had visited for her job in which the parents had left the picture, and only the oldest daughter ran the place. This inspired me to write a poem about them, but from an outsider's view.