quarta-feira, 6 de agosto de 2025

That dirty hive of a house

 Street kids overpacked the corner house
stained cheeks grins and old light
conversation and jokes for dinner
but no food

Cops will be here in a week or two
And some of us will never meet again
but for now survival binds us
Our trauma and fight and flight

Our ignorances and streetsmarts
interacting into the wee hours
something soft to lay my head on
a can of conserved vegetables

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