skid row

they don't stake their tents down
because, you know, its awfully hard
to stake a tent to dirty city sidewalks

some lay down under open night sky
in a pile of sleeping bags and
thin blankets that probably smell
like piss

and we drive by
holding each-others hands
and our full bellies
we are laughing
and talking and listening to music
and he is drinking a milkshake bigger
than my face
and he leans over and kisses me
with his vanilla lips

and I don't understand why
they are here
and not in bed

why didn't anyone say I love you
and mean it
and hold them to the ground
or lift them to the sky

why are they laying here

why can't they care
enough
to get the fuck up
to live