he was crouched low to the ground
in the darkness I could not tell
if he was drunk, passed out, squatting,
waiting for the bus.
my bike crawled through the heat,
my head pounding, sweat drenching
my sleeveless blouse,
a white beard coalesced from the darkness
and a face and a shopping cart.
we drifted past each other
he was enjoying his evening sitting
on a turned over shopping cart,
watching the traffic roll on by.
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