THE LITTLE SHE HAS LEFT

She is life lived in the margins of society

Never below the fold of the page

and never above, always in the crease                           

She has been kicked to the curb more times

than she can remember

and steps off there also, when things go

strange, which is often

Parks are her places, the ones where she

knows to lay her head

Not yards -- that was a life lesson learned --

not to curl up in private yards

Thunder in the streets means the trains are

rolling hard or else, it's going to pour

And she has to gauge if the skies are about

to start spewing

Or if it's just jets overhead again;

She's  aware that  her status

is that of disenfranchised

But she doesn't much care,

She's just careful not to spill

what little she has left of sane.