Privacy

Privacy

The man asleep
at the bus stop
caught my attention,
not just because his cheek
(pressed to the sidewalk)
was scarred and overgrown,
but maybe also
because he slept as though
it was his home
and not just
a public
place
where
anyone
could
see.

He clung to a few
bits of refuse,
treasures
no doubt,
oblivious to
traffic
(foot and car and
rumbling bus)
and to the stares
of children
young
and
old.

But when I tried to tuck
a bit of money
into his hand
he woke,
alarmed,
clutching his prizes
(an old hat, some rags, a bottle
in a paper bag)
and fled.

 

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2 thoughts on “Privacy

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