in the corridor

on the bridge, in the road
she waits, dirty clothes
lice infested scalp
thief of dumpster food

waits for her turn
waits in the long line of life
for now

and when she talks to him
she cries
she cries every day
drips down overgrown eyelashes

and when he asks her why she
cries, she says she doesn't see
how everyone doesn't cry
every day

and she is black and white
in a world of color

people with earphones
drowning her image


and her throat is closed
elongated neck
a knife in the wrong place
and she waits

sitting in the hallway
listening to the cars
smelling the piss-covered streets

she waits in the subway
until there is no more time

it's 13 o'clock, and she has
to move her feet, has to get
out of the line

wash it
and get out of the hall
out of the door
has to baptize herself in the bay