friday nights no longer
have their after-glow
the buzzing silver light
guiding me to you
to the beers
to a place like home
warm, naked
entangled in your
bed

friday nights end
flat-lined, alone
the work shift over
at midnight
my muscles quake
my spirit rumbles for
something more
than this.
the streets
holler and i ignore and
sit in the cold
smoking a cigarette
with the smelly, crazy-eyed
bums
in the shelter
waiting for the bus
which will bring me
to the place i sleep

but i have no home