I
walked north instead of south
And
passed a man who looked like he
Existed
hand to mouth.
He’d
made a small encampment
Underneath
a walking bridge,
Though
of course he lacked a bathroom
Or
a closet or a fridge.
But
I had to give him credit
For
I couldn’t help but look
As
he knelt before a bookshelf
Picking
out the perfect book.
There
were maybe twenty volumes,
Neatly
standing side by side,
Clearly
adding to the ambiance
Of
where he does reside.
We
can make our living quarters
Cozy,
if we are in luck,
But
to do so when you’re homeless
Takes
a little bit of pluck.
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