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.
