Sharing homelessness
was my first venture
into the rock bottom
state of depravation.

I became a part owner,
a pavement piece of the
identical nothing that was
our common denominator.

A universal co-operative of
proportioned divvies from
our collective enterprise of
alms seeking, by entreaty.

Passing the bottle in a
brown paper bag, tell by
taste, nocturnal liquor is
proof by percentage told.

Bachelors Beans, with a lid
spoon, relayed in the same
circuit as the night warming
liquid, which sustained us.

Voices, footsteps, rain, lights,
shadows, engines, stars, stray
dogs, alley cats, fleas and rats.
Cardboard boxes of dreams.

Waking vibrations, the alarm
clock of (((shivers))) needs no
winding nor setting, automatic,
in tempo with the Underground.

Polystyrene cups blown over in
wind need anchoring before the
ebbed tide of people flow back
into the Metropolitan Mecca.

Another repetition for them all,
their similarities are comparable,
same laces as yesterday, polished
accents, change is for the homeless.