A ticket won’t take
these tired children
to a safe and warm place,

won’t help me escape
from the darkness
that stains
their strained face.

My fear is misplaced
as a scraggly faced stranger
stumbles out of the night shade
asking for the time
and any spare change.
My apprehension
is mine not his shame.

A shining sign
sears the night,
illuminating the people
who sleep
just inches from my feet
under a thin torn blanket
that barely conserves any heat.

Their struggle
makes me uncomfortable.
It is not love,
but guilt
that makes me give
the hurt homeless kids
a buck or two.

A day away
I barely
think of these
struggling
human beings
as I luxuriate
in my comfortable lifestyle.