Two doors down
from a bar
two people,
strangers to me,
sit in a doorway
up on sixth street;
Wearing winter caps,
winter coats,
even though,
I’m sure they know
it isn’t winter yet,
but it’s so cold.
They have each other
as they sit in separate chairs
leaning together.
I wanted to give them
a dollar or some food
but they are sleeping
and I know how hard
it is to get good sleep
in this life.

If I told you they
were children
would you care?

If I told you
they were women
would you care?

If I told you they
were white men
again would
you care?

If I told you
they were black
brown skin
would it matter
At all?    

If I told you
at one time
over fifteen years ago
I slept on a couch
in a hallway
in a building
with cracked
and shattered glass
windows that
let cold winds in.
Cuddling next
to my oldest friend
one head poking out
at each end
from under the thick
sleeping bag I had.
Fully loaded for winter,
except between us
we only had one ski mask
and one pair of gloves,
so we switched off and on.

If I told you what was wrong
so you could find what’s right
how our lives our deeply intertwined
and that this soap box is yours
as much as it is mine?

Would you take the time to see
and help the myriad of yous and mes
that are still suffering,
no matter what they look like?