“Being homeless is like living in a post-apocalyptic world. You’re on the outskirts of society.” — Frank Dillane
- This isn’t New York
- The city sleeps tonight
- There are a handful of people awake —
- Emergency medical, police, 24 hour convenience,
- Stragglers down the street to nowhere
- But it is the stragglers who interest us the most
- They stumble occasionally with hooded eyes
- Going nowhere, coming from nowhere
- What is pounding in their hearts, what message?
- It must be fearsome being one of the stragglers
- Gone are the certainties of homely middle-class life
- Now rising up like a wall are the new realities
- Not enough money
- Need for some liquid sustenance
- A longing for companionship
- The straggler walks alone tonight
a poignant portrait; Greg, you may have found your calling —
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Poetry will always be nothing more than a hobby for me. I am more in the novelist’s vein. That’s where the big money is, and I ALWAYS follow the big money… provided I can grasp it.
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you got a hard road ahead, Greg; good luck —
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Setting out… Rising with fervor… returning to measured pace. The structure honors the Straggler beautifully.
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