Slush rests on the
cracks of my tattered shoes.

The blackness of night  
gives my face the blanket of
obscurity I need.

Empty trash cans,
locked car doors.

As my only coat begins
to give way to winter’s unrest,
salvation is spotted.

Someone has left me an opportunity.
Were they distracted?
Drunk perhaps.

I walk over and pick it up.
I can make the figure of
its owner in a distant window.

He doesn’t need this.
I need this.

A light flickers
and threatens my anonymity.

I pocket my treasure,
and make for the comfort
of the dark.

It pokes at my hip bone,
and settles nicely next to the others.