PRODIGAL SON

Right before I got out of jail
I began to cry deeply, I began to wail

Where am I going to stay, how can I survive?
I’d rather be here than the streets and try to strive

Then the answer came to me as I attended mass
It was my last Sunday there, my first at a bible class

And there was a flyer that offered to help any
People like me, now felons, of which there were many

I praised the man above for answering my prayer
For erasing my fears, for stripping at the layers

When I got out four days later my mind was at ease
Even though that flyer amounted to nothing but a tease

It wasn’t for me after all, I only went to jail
Those were for prisoners, those in life likely to fail

With only a token in hand I hopped on the trolley
No money on me, just the clothes on my back, indeed a folly

And went to the shelter I lived once before
Swallowing my pride for I wasn’t returning I once swore

While on the list to get in, I roamed around
The streets of San Diego, treating it as my playground

The parks, marinas, the colleges, all
and slept on their benches quite snugly, I’m not that tall

I coined the term urban camper to define
My time without shelter, though the homeless aren’t inclined

To acknowledge that it can be quite fun
Almost as exhilarating as life on the run

Two weeks from my release I finally became an intake
At St. Vincent’s where this time I’ve learned and won’t make the same mistake

Where once before I had a lot of carefree days there
This time I have a plan, I’m moving to foggy air

Save up some money while I also do research
Plan this all right, execute without a lurch

So if my timetable’s right on cue
I should be in San Francisco in time’s due

And give myself the gift of a lifetime