She cries the cry of the forgotten,
With desolate heart, beating quietly in a corner.
Loneliness has robbed her of words.
None can communicate the depth of her aloneness,
So she waits.
Head nestled upon a blanket
Dingy with the bruised film
Of an eternity compressed
Into a matter of weeks on this,
Her piece of pavement.
I ignore her, avoiding the merest possibility
That I may be like her,
That I may be her.
Furtive glance met by the other,
Eyes lock, souls mingle through the ether of forever.
A heart beats once,
And it is over.
I pull out my last dollar and hand it over
Silently praying, “Let me never become you.”
She waits, eyes drop.
Blanketing my prayer into a thud as it hits gray pavement.
I buy my absolution.
The price, a dollar.
Copyright/All rights reserved 2011 Audrey Howitt