Living in a car
in New York City

I hide underneath a tablecloth
which substitutes for a blanket

It is quite uncomfortable in the backseat
with that bump in the middle
pushing my lower ribs into my gut
as I lie on one side, and hide

Though so much better then the
cardboard box with news-papered roof
I once pretended, could protect me from
the rain

If only I could figure out the
alternate side of the street on
which to park