Car exhaust for air freshener.
A cardboard sign for an address.
Scraps for food.
Out in the elements.
Out alone with cars rushing by or idling near.
Some look.
Some look away.
Some give something.
Some give nothing.
None can ignore.
A car horn or wave draws them near:
another hand-out. Then, gone...
Home-less men and women,
Appealing to strangers as stranger still.
Each owns a story,
Each a tale of woe and ruin.
We return to our rooms full.
They stand and pace without roof, heat, or menu.
Another left his home and became homeless,
With nowhere to lay his holy head.
Yet by design.
He seemed to wander,
but carried his Sign in himself.
Some looked.
Some looked away.
None can ignore--forever.
Still he is homeless, although above.
He is home-less, in our midst.
Yet he is found in the least, the last, the lost.
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