Scavenging,

Through trash bins,

Rubbish heaps,

Loitering beyond alley doors,

Waiting for “the good stuff”.

Jagged nails,

Through fingerless gloves,

Sort through treasures,

Maybe a doughnut,

Scrap of bread,

Half eaten burger,

A meal fit for a king.

Seen on steam grate mattresses,

Fetal curl for warmth;

Passersby arc wide birth

To avoid their touch.

Rain draws trash bag slickers,

Doorways, cardboard,

Rags for umbrellas,

Taxi’s thrown sludge sprays the invisible

With cities dirt and grim.

Will they be here tomorrow?

Will anyone notice their absence?

As their shopping cart sits idle

Ravaged by fellow unseen.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~