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I remember the first time
So young, so naive
Then
Listening to Pearl Jam’s “Ten”
Butterflies and begging for change
Not a clue
To
The real state of the world
Life outside my preteen walls

Family trip from small city to D.C.
And seeing
For the first time
That man begging for his bread

But he wasn’t alone on the street that summer day
There were many cups and hands
Reaching out
Butterflies – all of them
Flitting around from here to there
Trying to find a place to land.

Indifferent
Spare change was not something we had in abundance either

And now
As an adult
Listening to that song, those words
Seeing all those butterflies still flying around the Capitol city
What changed?

What hasn’t?

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