in a super size cup

you slouch in train stations, nap on city benches, nod in doorways with your unlaced sneakers, your salvation army jacket, your frayed yankees hat pulled so low your eyes remain hidden. your life floats in a super size cup waiting for hand-outs and sinks in an almost empty plastic bottle of rotgut hidden in a bag.

the molecules in your brain are vibrating faster now, as unseen as memory, as elusive as starshine. tonight, when you lay curled up on the sidewalk under a piece of cardboard and when i lay in bed on the seventh floor under high thread count cotton and goose down, i will squeeze my eyes shut. i will pray for your safety. i wonder, would you do the same for me were i down there and you here?