A beggar slithers slow,
Like a snake he flows,
Words spill like bile,
Spit forming in a neat file,
"Man, you got some change?"

Quick on the feet, I go,
"Some change? Some change?
Look around you man,
Don't you see enough change?"

Seeing him flinch,
I go for the lunge,
"Work it up Mister,
You must be a great jester.

Look there,
A bus flings dust tither,
Metals clad in their rusted crust,
Like the seasons march with unflinching thrust."

"Oh Lord,
That is not the type of change,
I like exchanged.."

"Tell me, dear Beggar,
who chooses what change we trade?
We take what’s dealt, not made.

You would see your coin-sack,
Bulge with change,
But a hole in your sack,
Is also a big change.

Only the youthful blindness,
And the common foolishness,
Denies the very thing,
That lies naked among."

Defeat's in full view,
"Yes, the change I want,
Is not the change I desire,
Or the change you have."

Finally an arrow pierces,
Of the truth it kisses,
The changing unchange,
Token of nature's revenge.

"Here you go mister,
A single euro coin."

"This is not enough change,
For this cringe."