(Yvonne Ingram, writing in Street Roots)
Unknown Soldier of The Streets
Sitting next to me on a bench in
the hallway of a downtown
building, he spoke about
his life - the one
he was experiencing
today. He was living
in the present - the now.
Worn jeans and jacket
covered his body
yet, he was presentable
sober, and alert. Carrying a bag
with clean clothing, and personal
effects, he talked about
sleeping on the cement
of the city streets, of the crack addicts
that stole his sleep while they were
tweaking. And, his stolen blanket
by the unknown others who were cold.
No names were exchanged
just the experience was the topic -
friendship was offered
but not said aloud
A bond was building
and I wondered just how long he
had to live on the streets
with his possessions
in a plastic bag.
