Urban Hermit

A Poem by Blotter

The homeless guy and I
both know the rhythm of the lights
and cross the street in unison
before the sign can change.

He knows far better, though,
the truth of the city’s nuance.
He will pull the streets upon himself to sleep
while I must suffer with a mere blanket.

His clothes match the nature of his world
while my shorts and work-wear are anathema.
He sups on the caviar of the trash can
while I suffer the plethora of my fridge.

These skyscraper canyons
and glass-clad metal forrests
are his domain; he is an urban settler
and I have trespassed on his claim.

The light runs its cycle again
and the concrete river carries him
down currents only he can navigate
as I shelter on the shore
of the wilds he commands.