Asleep at noon
on the sidewalk —
skin and bones in
baggy shorts
baggy t-shirt
and dirt
Under your head,
you clutch a bag
with your belongings —
a tin bowl, tooth-brush
perhaps another shirt
Your sheet, an old plastic sack
that someone used in the past
to carry yuca to the market
The rusted truck cabin,
you used as shelter before,
collected by the city
in a futile effort
to gentrify the area
Exiled to the sidewalks,
you sleep when & where you can
your exhausted mornings
after a night of servicing
truckers at nearby filling stations
By María T. Balogh: published in Spanish by Grafemas
