those street people
with greasy matted hair
and scruffy clothes
who circle this unwelcome town
shuffle outside this window eyeing me
as they squabble with the sky
what if they’re really searching for something?
what if there’s a door
to a paradise you and I can’t see
sandwiched in the shadows
between this Starbucks
and the 7-Eleven
on the other side of town?
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