In the Circle K parking lot
I would beg enough spare change
to eat a cheap meal each evening.
One thing I am thankful for every day
is that so far in life, I’ve only experienced
being unhoused for a few weeks.
For some it is their lifestyle.
Those who choose it are rare.
For most it is imposed.
Most of us are only a few paydays
away from catastrophe.
Some people in the neighborhood are generous.
Most are cordial, none friendly, and a few hostile.
Words like “get a job”, “scumbag”, and “loser”
no longer bother me.
Sometimes it feels better to be invisible.
The space behind the trash cans
was relatively comfortable
and felt safer than the shelter.
Three layers of cardboard
are a fair mattress,
and scavenged trash bags
make a tolerable raincoat for those nights.
If I could afford a cup of coffee,
the waitress at the diner
didn’t mind me washing up in the restroom,
as long as I didn’t inconvenience
the better-paying customers.
At the end of each day I told myself
“I don’t know how long I can do this,
but for now, it’s tolerable.”
Only when everything crumbles
do we truly know what we have
or appreciate how perfectly
and precariously it all fits together.
© 2026 Bruno Talerico
271/365
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