I hate winter. All my friends tell me it's great,
But they all get to sleep inside when the windchill is 12 below.
I guess I'm technically inside -
The shelter room is drafty and the heat doesn't work very well,
Sputtering and hissing like the alley cats
Behind the building
We don't have nearly enough blankets.
Just once this winter I want to not be
Cold.
Wherever I go out the air seeps through a second hand coat,
Feeling ***** and gray against my skin.
*****, dingy, cold
Basically describes me, my mom, the sidewalks, the weather, the city, my life.
I've only ever celebrated Christmas
With others who have lost their way, their homes.
Never the warm family event I know is right.
All the people at school love Christmas -
Their families all have enough money to buy gifts for them.
My mom asked what I wanted,
And I knew she didn't really want me to answer but I couldn't help it
"A phone-" I blurted out, before I could stop myself.
I almost cried when I saw the look on her face
Defeated, deflated, like someone had
Stripped away all pretenses of
Un-reality
She wanted to get me a new phone, I could see it in her eyes
But I'd also seen the bills this month.
There was no way that was happening.
"Look, Mom, I was just joking.
I don't need anything, the important thing is for the two of us to just be a family."
I forced a smile, seeing the lines around her mouth
Sag with relief.
She didn't know that all the girls at school had new phones
And new clothes
And perfect hair
And high end purses
And cars and Christmas tree and coats.
And they're not cold.
I hate going shopping with my mom
When we get to the checkout counter she has to pull out our food stamps and
Bridge cards and crumpled ones and
Fives to pay for scuffed hand shoes
And ugly sweaters.
I know she's doing the best she can but I always act like
I don't know her.  
Being poor is embarrassing,
A red stain rising to my cheeks that doesn't make me feel any warmer.
I pretend I don't care that the other people in the line
Stare,
Impatiently tapping their feet when
She drops her change
Morse code messages to 'get back to the streets, the shelter, to wherever you came from
What did you do to end up like this?'
You know, I got asked to homecoming this year. But I had to lie and say my dad was really sick and I had to stay home.
I don't even have a dad!
But I knew we didn't have money for the tickets, let alone a dress or boutonnière.
I just want to feel normal for once.
I want to be warm and comfortable
And feel like someone else loves me.
Have some new clothes for once.
New boots, a new hat...
It's okay though, really. I've survived all the winters before this.
It's just so hard, you know? When I know that I'm different, that my family is different.
You might be able to lie to a 7 year old, but I know that being homeless is
Different.
Bad.
Cold.

She smelled like cigarettes
And the way the yellow street lamp sparked bright on her yellow teeth almost made him shudder, keep driving
But he didn't care, he wanted -no, needed
It
Her
Needed to see the back alley dust in the creases of her elbows
Needed to feel the visceral pull of
Skin on skin, fingers twisted in hair
To feel he was alive.
She tasted like cigarettes.
She never was able to kick them
Wanted a pack a day but could only afford
A smoke every 6 hours
Every 6 hours, like clockwork
Stumbling through the back door,
Desperately reaching for a light.
She counted herself lucky that her only vice was smoking
(the ******* the corner opposite had a
nasty coke habit)
Yet he didn't care what she tasted like,
Just that he was tasting her,
Feeling her,
Drugged on the way her eyelashes caught the light and the way her breath
Rasped the slightest bit when he grabbed her hand.
He was a regular, got good treatment
She knew to treat him good, don't complain
Still she couldn't help but feel degraded,
Worthless when her face was pressed to the ground,
Focusing on breathing and trying to shut out
His little gasps and noises as he got what he paid for
Still she couldn't believe where her life had gone,
On her knees, ignore the fact she was
Half an hour late to her smoke break, because she was here making a living.
She can only buy her cigarettes because  
She knows *** sells.

little girl
your tiny breaths
contain the breath of life

as you doze
a whole universe inside of you
is expanding and bursting into life

I cannot shield you from
the joys and pains of life
but what I can be is a
stable and consistent
loving presence in your life

I will try to stay in the now
and not get all bent out of shape about
puttin' the fear of God in the boys and/or girls you date
for now, I will be a sane daddy that
holds you while you gently sleep

just remember when daddy gets a little crazy
I still love you

I will try to remember the same when
me and mommy stay up late at night waiting for you
hold you and soothe you as you cry out through the night
and even when you grow up and say "I hate you."
I will say "thank you. I love you."

but for now, I am glad you are just dozing in my arms
a tiny little being without a care in the world
daddy is here to change your poopy diapers
and rock you to sleep

We take a shortcut
through the narrow walkways
of the old village

across the cobblestones
and by the white-washed tabby wall

to the waterside where slave ships
once plied their trade

My dog lingers nose down
as if each stone has a story to tell

and ***** an ear to the wall
where the auctions were held

She looks at people differently now.

when my son was younger
he asked -

how old are the mountains
from where did the First People come
why does the sun sleep in the ocean
what is the color of rain

now that my son is older
stronger, wiser and bolder
he asks -

how old are the mountains...
...what is the color of rain


some things don't change.