overpass

So this is where they stay:
under the bridge shaded from the merciless day
face to face with starvation and dead fish
No, it is only their clothing:
rent oxford long from the office,
an ugly orange overcoat useless in this splitting heat
Hanging from its peg with regard

But it is only a concrete overpass
and I am drawn here, appalled by my fascination
to the footprints in the dust and the crumpled beer cans
discarded friends
And this sketch in chalk on the wall
and the failing sunlight on the hanging overcoat
is beautiful

I could live here
watching the lives of the fish
and listening to the music of tires above my head
and enjoying endless stories of familiarity
with others in oxfords
This spot in the shaded dust
could be my home