Homeless

curled up on cardboard-
nameless faceless commuters
pass without a glance
–
fingerless gloves-
dreaming of a home
not a doorway

sputtering neon-
piles of rags weakly lit by
the staccato glow
–
november night-
threadbare blankets
in the doorway

alone on the street
with scarcely a backwards glance
from the passers by
–
three threadbare coats-
his breath still clouds
the autumn night

asleep on a bench
the hard rap of a nightstick
startles him awake
–
dark rain-
wet newspaper
her only refuge

in the stinging rain
waiting by the library
for the doors to open
–
sleeping rough-
water from the downspout
soaking his coat

a torn cap worn low
collar turned against the wind
shrouded in darkness
–
a squalid doorway-
scant shelter from
the bitter cold