Outside the Garden

The homeless and anonymous
push shopping carts
packed with their collection
of bottles and cans
           or
carry large plastic bags
filled with their sole possessions,
their treasures of life.

We try to ignore them
and view them as nuisances
           or
pests we encounter
on the street.

They nap on park benches
           or
over heating vents,
panhandle on street corners
and subway platforms.

They feed at dumpsters
and seek refuge in basements
of burnt-out tenements
           or
use makeshift shelters,
of card board huts,
           or
sometimes spend a night
in abandoned vehicles,
the stripped shells,
carcasses of Lincolns
and Caddies that seat six
and sleep three.

          But
from the penthouses
between
Park and Columbus
we all look like
a
    n
        t
           s.