I sat and watched the long-legged woman take him by the hand:

A mother and her child remind me that I'm of a different brand.

She softly adjusts his coat and leads him across the street:

My eyes fall down to empty, dirty hands and naked, soiled feet.

 

And I wonder of my soul, do I have one?

Or is it a part they left out, forgotten on the run?

 

I awoke with someone using my hard bed for a sidewalk:

In my upside-down world, I'm level with a dirty rock;

A rock hurled from his polished shoe, with the skill of David's sling:

A fallen Goliath, but no giant, my face still feels the sting.

 

Am I a dog that for life I must fend and grope?

Does surviving mean to live or scavenging mean to hope?

 

I see a schoolboy, he's dreaming of the new toy in the window:

His nightmares are my dreams; I resign to play with my Marlboro.

He's fixed with a backpack, family and future and still wanting more;

Forgetting my hunger, hurt and past is the sniffing glue's chore.

 

They say if I behave, I'll see life after death.

But how can I know life, if I've never known breath?