Surreal survivors

Frayed, ripped jeans, knees clutched with arms to body

sitting, nearly being swallowed by hat and coat as she shivers

I ask to sit, barley hearing voice as it's spoken just above a whisper

 sweet, innocent face intently peering at mine as we speak

I learn her story as she shares carefully

 articulating very slowly, leading me to hang on her every word

with each sentence her chin quavers, allowing herself a fully honest moment

 to tear up and be openly sad

we sit together in the sad, in the alone feeling

for a heavy moment I get to experience life through her eyes

I see the boots and knees of those walking back and forth

I feel the isolation, an awareness of being invisible

depending on loose change and pity of the stranger

knowing a little bed in the dark alleyway awaits

uncertain of when life will begin to get better

:::

With eyes to glowing stones below our feet

we trek into the pitch darkness of the overpass

flashlight in hand calling out into the echo of spray painted concrete

Beholding our friends homes

gathered, collected,set up amongst the messy trash

Out of the stillness two heads pop up from a mattress

sleepy faces, big smiles, kind chatter

sitting up in bed ready to share a box of pizza