Again this

morning I

saw her,

Patty.


She sits

at the bus stop

wishing for

the big

yellow bus to

come,


or is it

the next one,

or the one

after that.


Life has hit

her hard,

open wounds

easy to read.


She doesn't belong

to anyone else

anymore.


Her broken heart

out of rhythm

kicked to

the side

of the road

and forgotten.


so she

just sits

under the

early morning

light.


once she

was somebody's

newborn baby,


once I imagine

she could

have been

a beauty,

but that was

along time

ago.


Before the

savage teeth

of crystal ****

took it's

first deep bite,

and then

each night

came to

feed upon

her again,

and again

and again.


now she

just wanders

around the city,

panhandling

here panhandling

there 25 bucks

to lie down in

the back of

your car.


it's Monday

9 am I witness

her in her

same familiar spot.


I pray to myself

"my God, I hope

she makes

it to ten."