DREAMS COST NOTHING.

A HOMELESS WOMAN AND HER DREAMS.

Dreams cost nothing.
You are free to indulge
Wherever you lay your
Head. You sense the cold

Despite the rough shelter;
The chill creeps through to
The center of you. Cloth has
It’s worth even other people’s

Cast-offs. You remember
Mother’s choice of clothes
For you back then; those odd
Dresses others wouldn’t be

Seen dead in were yours for
The summers until they rode
Too high up the thighs showing
Off too much flesh and panty

Line. You can smell the street
Scent, hear passers-by whisper:
Another of those smelly homeless
Refugees, another to pluck the

Heartstrings for cash or coins.
You ignore as best you can; let
The words float, the meanness
Stew in the other’s soul. Best

Dreams cost nil; bright lights,
Best cloth, free food and best
Cigarettes and Mother alive
Again putting on the too short

Dresses revealing too much thigh,
Too much of her panty line and
The ever-filling glass of wine.
Sleep keeps its secrets; sleep is

Your friend; homelessness and
The street and the smell and the
Cold and the free dreams, colourful,
Never to be revealed or ever told.

Author's Note

PHOTO BY ARLEEN HODGE.