The black felt tip gliding across the cardboard,
Spelling out a silent cry for help.
Back and forth on the pavement,
The bright sun, a reminder of the bright lights.

A tactical sensation,
The flashbacks begin.
A car's backfire sounds like the battlefield,
The fear creeps back.

Food, water, once came free to me,
Now I beg for a penny,
I work for a droplet.
I work for a crumb.

The odor that lingers my body,
I wait for the rain.
Owning nothing,
Just the clothes on my back.

Time stands still,
What day is it?
I feel a hostage in my own body,
Now on the frontline of a median.

Cars come and go,
My feet are jealous.