1.30

the men that walk in

are the same age as me

or younger

we wear the same jeans,

blue slightly worn. our

tan winter jackets and pullover

caps match.

and I hand them a bag

lunch or two, peanut

butter and jelly, some chips

and snacks, maybe a water

and they go out into the

cold while I sit and

make notes on how many

came in today

there but for the grace of

God. but where is the

grace for them, and why

not me out there

half a step from poverty

instead of deceptively secure

and warm. it is a mystery

that disturbs.

survivor guile, survivor guilt.

I do my part.

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