Out of the dumpster is where I get my dinner.
The pickings are slim and everyday I get thinner.
Moldy bread and green cheese, the food I eat
When the poor go to dinner while living on the street.
Worried that what I eat will make me sick
However, the homeless cannot choose and pick
Tears in my eyes I take yet another bite
My god, my god, this cant be right
My food all covered with so many bugs
Maggots and ants--yes, even a slug
Others laugh when they look upon me
Not able to understand what it is they see
A shake of their head and they turn away
Yet I remain, eating garbage everyday.

--Judy Eichstedt