"Yeah when you get to look at it
From a window and not worry
About sleeping in it"
They laugh knowingly both knowing
The specific hardness of cold concrete
Colliding with tailbone
And scapula over and over as you wrest yourself
To get some rest in
After dark, after 5 PM, the lights come on
Across the street. Pale yellow lights
From fridges, blue glow of TV, once
The quick orange lighter spark that lit a blunt
And danced around the kitchen
She's been inside one once, for sex,
"Three grand a month" she smiles
Wryly and turns back to her anger
Management homework
In the dawn light, after 6 AM, there are ripples of life
Out my back window, their red tent and blue tarp
Bright against the grey concrete
Through the leafless trees
I've never been inside them but I've
Watched them sleep in glances,
Walking to my bus. Streetlights,
Flashlights, sometimes lighter sparks
Too, lit blunt in gloved hands, a quick
Dance under the highway overpass.
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