I am not on the list of names
Mournfully read each September eleventh
Won’t someone weep for me?
Hunched in the alley between two towers, that was me
Sleeping off the Smirnoff vodka, forgetting my name
One of many, one of eleven
Into the tower’s north face, came crashing flight eleven
The omnipotence of America fell on me
But no one remembers my name
Me and eleven other cardboard box bums, along with our names, died, too.