Hey there...
you !!
with your
Starbucks
and half eaten
Espresso bar
so casually thrown
into the
trash.
Food and drink
still warm from
your hands
still pink from
chatting
in that
coffee shop
you frequent
each morning.
I saw you
turn your
head
from me,
you wouldn’t
even
meet my
eyes.
Your father,
no doubt,
told you
I was
dangerous
because I
hear voices
of
Saints and
Demons,
because
the streets
are my
friends,
because I can’t
find
a safe place
to piss,
to wash
my face
or clean
my ass.
Or perhaps
you
don’t like
the way
I look
or how
I smell.
To hell with
you!
I don’t really
care!
What I
care about
is that
you
left me
some of
your latte
and half eaten
pastry
and
a paper
to read
on top
of the
garbage.
And if I’m
lucky
I’ll get a
chance
to grab it
before
someone else
does,
and
for a brief
moment
feel like
I’m
someone.
Someone
like you.
© 2008 Querus Abuttu
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