I live in my car and watch people
from my parking lot
perspective,
they come from warm houses,
food prepared by loving spouses,
children to schools where they're taught
how to live above this parking lot
perspective,
yet, it's not so bad
though I have no warm house,
no loving spouse,
the children are all grown, I live alone
in my car which is by far better than a bush,
alley or construction site
where many shiver through out the night
like Susan,
who sleeps in the rocks at the beach,
totally unaware of all she could teach
this indifferent world and all it takes for granted
with its crumbling foundation, a structure now slanted,
furnished with morals all sliding to a corner,
whoever holds tight ends up a loner,
living in cars, alleys and rocks at the beach
and poor, poor Cheri
shares her hopes to reach
Virginia by mid-month to live with her kids,
food stamp money for a bus ticket
is the last hope that lives of her shattered dreams,
hands clinched at her sides
she screams and screams,
and a drunken cowboy Mike
talks of a daughter in Texas somewhere,
a blue Mustang he'll buy her
when he flies down there
but for now another bottle
he's reluctant to share
with Susan who lives on the beach,
unaware of the survival lessons she could teach
like how to eat edibles from a trash can,
or how to avoid cops while sleeping in the sand
which is illegal like sleeping in my car
even though I own it and pay for the tar
and asphalt with the taxes I pay
but at least I have somewhere to stay
when the cold wind blows through the night
unlike poor Cheri, Susan and cowboy Mike,,,
by Dave Holloway 1997
I almost feel you know these poor people personally. Or maybe you're just an imaginative writer.
ReplyDeleteYour poem says so much in so few words. We were traveling a few years ago and picked up a homeless man. He was on his way south, hoping to get there before winter set in. He had a month or two to make it south before winter, so I suppose he made it.
ReplyDeletewow. you paint such a vivid pic of them...i think you do know them and sure they are blessed in your telling of their story...
ReplyDeleteThe mystery of each persons story. Very well told.
ReplyDeleteGiving the people names and stories gave this work more grit and reality. Something in the human makeup can put these stories behind (car) glass until they reach out to us with real hands and stories we can relate to. Thanks. Gay
ReplyDeleteGiving them names is powerful -- and living in your car is still the pits.
ReplyDeleteThis line is fabulous --
a structure now slanted,
furnished with morals all sliding to a corner
Vivid piece...really makes the story a personal one, full of emotion and heart. Very real, very raw. Well done.
ReplyDeleteyes - i think i know all of them...you managed to breathe life into shadows and gave them a face
ReplyDelete"furnished with morals all sliding to a corner, whoever holds tight ends up a loner..."flipped some conventional wisdom--work-hard-&-you'll-always-succeed---to good effect there.
ReplyDeleteI like your perspective of realism also: that the person in the car has it bad but not so bad as it could be, and your very well expressed point that no one is without the ability to provide something to others even when they seem to have nothing themselves.
You told a story, and that's what lots of people just don't see. Annoys me so much! <3 Great fantastic writing <3<3
ReplyDeleteThere's a rhythm in this that feels cyclic, the circle never closing, even though the names may change.
ReplyDelete"totally unaware of all she could teach
ReplyDeletethis indifferent world and all it takes for granted"
Loved this line. The poem has a rhythmic quality that pulled me forward. I love that each person had an individual story yet they all tied together. Well done!
This is such a powerful, personal piece...I like how the subject, though homeless, felt his suffering was not as great as others.
ReplyDeleteI love how you opened this up from the cozy home, to the car, to sleeping on the beach
well done
You manage to get into the personal side of the homeless person/people, without giving them the negative feelings, and for that reason, this feels very original.
ReplyDeletehe last hope that lives of her shattered dreams,
hands clinched at her sides
she screams and screams,
and a drunken cowboy Mike
talks of a daughter in Texas somewhere
I thought this was an extremely good tack to take on the prompt, giving the homeless people identities, and characterisation for the narrative.
You share a perspective from such a personal view, powerful words.
ReplyDeletethis is really touching..personal, narrative, combination of self and the others...wow...wonderful...
ReplyDeleteDo visit my other blog and drop in your thought at the post destination unknown . It too speaks of a homeless person with a brighter mood.
The wistfullness and the longing comes through so clearly in this piece.
ReplyDeleteA very powerful piece to identify each person with names and history of sorts makes the reader more open to recieve and want to help
ReplyDeleteThank you all for your wonderful comments and insights. Writing what I observed when I was homeless was my salvation. Helped me tread the water I suppose. The people are real and sometimes I miss them like a traveler misses his home.
ReplyDelete