Poverty Program Intrusion

By Jack Joseph Smith

Poverty Progran Intrusion It was on Pittsburgh's lower Fi? 4 Averme where I was preaching the word after work Which et that time wes Villiem Saroyan No3 it wasn'+ Pi?th Avenue It vas Forbes Street which is one street up South The tavern where I'd gone was down from the tunnel. that leads toward the Southside That's how I know now through that huge round stone It was a bad bar with too much mirror and no white light Piss -over glassy fine dirt: Like the coal.one can breathe Finished to-a flush from footwork beneath a strung out brick alley lady Like thin. resin.over a Ploor of ants For high-heeled, low-soled lonely danced jukebox shoes To be devil enticed © down through the faded up gleam of a face peering from the below of 1930 squared black tile She was ~in nasty garment shape of torn-pale green shades: With a gray spider-shawl tied to her loose-pinned tm of hair” Drunk with loss beneath: forgiveness of a kind” the heavens would pile up on a doomsday” : 1d foolish with fancy notions While I was young at 4 from my own enotional problem with perception. (no mirror now) We had started at one of the back bench hard “hooth brown plack on black tables (the thick of the fiftiesh type plastic excapes me) Bub Pron there along the wall T now remember us seated at round old cracked red” leather ‘able to spin stool high big tops Stn the time of your Life,” Tread, Nae in that time of your live you must kill, then kill, 2 ts Peel bed about ity the barons.) i) and don’
I could say that (I was talking about killing in herself what was killing her) but I wasn't Iwas just reading to the downcast Sheming my mind into the drunken faithful Until. I gave her the hard bound collection and walked like a wrinkled Wasp out the door A week later: I dear one returned Dayturned distant from fresh shower‘and shave+ but shoulder cover tucked into my Seersucker usual, I went again into-the din Hit red blues Among the American lower classes Fiction Hall'of Hell’ Evading with peripheral visior I asked the bartending man through the vast mirrored back of his head 42 the woman had since then been there- Ag-I Carnival’ like could see:a 180 ‘degree oP hag men and blue frozen veined. youen - ghake their ‘heads-im the oval of no Nowhere-to-be founds ° on the questioned ‘gesture of my J: Snmy--Cagney fingered spread’ Then the streek of my face-rignt on Fr. Across a mamouth mirrors fingernailed valley Slaumed home my ‘image in profile : of a child in the death wing-of a zoo” Ag -I caught-my act in time not to ask about binge and rebirth. taking two weeks~ . Hopefully on the Jam she vas lucky with the second half And do the eyes of the dispossessed answer? ck to a tenement hatel, mister socielworker ‘stars Nhat beats “the Flophoves . ight eye teeth of dusts by a dollerd® Wgrateful to sell her inside storys ®on the cover of that Saroyans (yes you were after To somebody lessers or somebody greater— But dePinitely better for her Then a kid like you

Original Scan

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AI Interpretation

GPT

A narrative set in a Pittsburgh bar where the young speaker reads Saroyan to a destitute woman, returns a week later to find her gone, and catches his own reflection in the bar mirror — confronting the self-serving nature of literary charity among the lower classes.

The poem layers physical detail — mirror, tile, jukebox shoes, spider-shawl — over a moral reckoning with the speaker's own motivations, ending in the unsettling suggestion that giving away a book was an act of intrusion rather than generosity.

Claude

A self-indicting memoir of literary charity, where the young speaker is 'preaching the word after work / Which at that time was William Saroyan' in 'a bad bar / with too much mirror and no white light' on Forbes Street. He reads 'In the time of your Life' to a ruined woman in 'torn pale green shades' with 'a gray spider-shawl,' hands her 'the hard bound collection,' and walks out 'like a wrinkled Wasp.' Returning a week later in his 'Seersucker usual' to ask the bartender if she has been back, he catches his own face 'Across a mamouth mirror' as 'a child in the death wing of a zoo,' the reflection delivering a verdict his good intentions cannot. The closing lines complete the reversal: whoever took her would have been 'definitely better for her / Then a kid like you.'

This is the collection's mirror made literal and moral. The bar is defined by 'too much mirror and no white light,' so that the room's whole optics are reflection without illumination, and when the speaker's image finally arrives it arrives as accusation rather than recognition. The intrusion of the title is his own: the 'poverty program' is his impulse to read literature at the poor, and the poem dismantles that impulse from inside, letting the glass judge the would-be savior. By the end the reader he came to instruct has become the text being read.