Where are you supposed to go when nobody wants you?
When no homeless shelter will take you.
When your parents can’t trust you.
When your children are afraid of you.
The line is long.
And thousands are younger than you,
Who, legally, the government care about.
You do their hair in the shelter. Delouse them.
They’re the reason you can’t stay past Friday.
What is your mother supposed to do?
You call her all hours, in all states, begging, demanding to come home.
There’s nothing left of her. You took her good years.
What is your father supposed to do?
He is old now. He is so, so old and you’ve missed out.
What is your daughter supposed to do?
The one who thought life was not worth living with you around.
Your voice and smell and laugh is traumatic.
Do I scroll ads for you, searching for someone naïve enough
To take you without references, pay stubs, with a record.
Do I pull one over on a granny for you,
A nice, deaf, old lady with a basement apartment,
And walls begging to be turned ‘to Swiss cheese.
I go through the ads and see ‘no smoking’ ‘no drinking’ Ha!
‘references’ ‘first and last’ ‘employment letter’ ‘quiet’ ‘professional’
And I see all the rugs I could sweep you under being pulled out of reach,
And I wonder, what am I to do with you?