walking home through the early light of Spring
chill becomes warmth cloaking my shoulders
I pass the hunched ones, newly awake
scraping the sidewalk for cigarette butts
am I so different from them?
I lived without a home, in a van
moving with wheels, without addiction
but it’s a thin veil separating us
what was my chosen adventure on the road
could have become
my hunching, scraping, cold nights shivering
If just one sliver of experience shifted
a mere yellow butterfly wing of circumstance
I am them and they are me
but for that filament of separation
that one unhealed emotional injury
that one crime unthinkingly committed
that one time saying no instead of yes
or yes instead of no
that one unavoidable trauma extinguishing joy
we are so close I could touch them
yet I resist, I pass by
and the chill as I near home becomes warmth
cloaking my shoulders along with sorrow
