Green Light

I pulled up to the stoplight, the intersection a construction mess
The panhandler sat crouched on the curb, cardboard sign in hand
It read: “Army Vet.  Whatever you can give helps! GOD BLESS”
Reluctantly, I remember the $83 in my backpack, bound by rubber band
I wonder if his intentions are true or if he's just looking to get his next fix
But is that so wrong? Is it such a bad thing? Wouldn't I be helping him anyways?
Yet, anything free is void of value —light and dark, good and evil, teach a man to fish
The idea that this man has simply been dealt a bad hand in life sets my heart ablaze
I blow out strawberry clouds and regard him as if he too were a smokey wisp
The car at the front summons him over hinting at the promise of a dime
My head sees a ghost, my heart sees a man in pain, my soul says this:
All or none are to be believed; the currency he needs most is my time