Fran

I often think of Fran, a tramp,
and all those plastic bags,
crumpled in her shopping cart,
in clothes I saw as rags!

She

Carrier Bag

The man holds tight

To his precious find

Of carrier bags with handles.

They hold all his wealth

Papers by

Streets his hallways
Grass his carpet
Birds his guests
They sing duets
Benches for fasting
Dustbins his larder
His

Education:

one day we're

excitedly laughing

and sipping beers

and the next I have no job -

same night I thought

about moving

Two Umbrellas

From a box,

clutched in bare blue hands,

two umbrellas point,

as though to guide

his shuffling feet.

Through icy