I went to school with an orphan
Ditched on the porch of the art-teacher
Like he was a babe in a basket
He would smirk at the word "orphan"
Because who gets orphaned?
Lord knows there were only
Private schools and produce co-ops
Tar heels and trust fund babies
Orthodontists and old folks
But he got ditched with nothing
Just a speech impediment and a last name.
He stuck out like a dog that don't hunt
Hiding out in the art-room
With his lisp and free lunches
I drove him back to his parent's trailer
Two years after the checks stopped coming.
The woods had been cleared out, save the lone trailer
In a circle of pine needles and wood chips
There might as well have been a pentagram
Where the double-wide stood, because we both
Could smell the curse
A stranger came out in sagging khakis
Said the old owners skipped to Florida
And told us through buck teeth to get lost.
I hit the gas and this boy said
I'm fixin' to be this town's first beggar
Prompt: "Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own poem that tells a story in the style of a blues song or ballad. One way into this prompt may be to use it to retell a family tragedy or story, or to retell a crime or tragic event that occurred in your hometown."
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