Hobo
by
Charles McCarthy

There aren't any hobos left
and if there are they are far
between if you know what I mean.
People like to talk about them still
and remember when
the hobos were real men.
But FDR got them all jobs
painting fences and murals on walls.
The hobos are all gone.

Some people as of late, and for many years have made fun of hobos. I can't say that there isn't something funny with the portrayals of hobos, but hobos were real people, displaced people, and in any other time or any other place they would have been called refugees. Or they could be seen as the last vestige of the American spirit, the restless energy and drive to keep moving, to keep searching for something better. Sometimes I feel like a hobo as I move, not across the country, but amongst social spheres, jobs, bars, and other aspects and dimensions of life.