Sleeping on Stones

The street is my mattress,

Stones my headrest,

The wind covers my body

Even as I curl up

Like a foetus

In a womb.

Roadside lamps –

My aid to study,

With cops punching me

As they demand:

“What are you doing, buddy?”

I hear that the world is advancing

To what I wonder!

My old man is still begging on the road

Even as the globe

Sells poverty

And promotes indignity.

One Shot Wednesday - Homelessness