Street Life

My cologne has a striking resemblance to the city’s dirty laundry. Only difference I cannot contain my secrets to a hamper or wash them away with bribery. That stench unfortunately is must. I’m soiled in the filth and grime street cleaners never seem to remove - the garbage that becomes my only meal. The corner: my humble abode pedestrians disrespect by walking through in their shoes and never bother to greet me or apologize for their lack of manners. Have you ever swallowed your tears because they were the only thing close to water? Held an entire conversation with God and those in passing thought you were merely insane? Ask for the pennies in a person’s pocket because you know the true value of a dollar? Gazed at the stars and realize that they are just as insecure and alone? When it rains, my cardboard mansion withers to a soggy blanket. The heavens are mourning and the weeping is healing. Leisurely stroll through the park to watch the sun make the flowers blush and the wind tickle the trees . I then remember the beautiful every day keepsakes forgotten by skyscrapers and hazed by the fumes of sports cars. If you ever wondered how my life brought me to this circumstance, my response is God had to reveal to me why He is God and god alone.