melissaahowells
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whenever I discover a partially full
disposable coffee drinking cup stranded on the street I cannot resist the urge to tip it over watch the coffee form into dark rivulets imaginary rivers rushing down sidewalks creating miniature streams I like to watch the directions the randomness in which the liquid glides and turns and pools I think to myself life is that way wild and rushing haphazard unplanned-for accidental I like to give homeless people something they like to eat or drink but I ask them first about their preferences and couch them within my meager budget's reasonableness random acts of kindness seem to satisfy and please on both ends of the spectrum creating rainbows within and without people feel like people again its a kind of transformation that a little act of giving can do making one another feel whole again I feel like a person and hopefully they do once more too often they get pushed along treated more or less worse than curbside furniture or like prisoners of their unfortunate circumstances and reminded for it as daily punishment I don't think people start out choosing to be homeless anymore than that cup of coffee got left behind by the bus stop I pick up the coffee cup after I have kicked it over for fun who picks up the Homeless from their street corners beside the police... why am I putting these two ideas together in my head? legal Copyright 7/21/2015 written directly to the page from thoughts on the bus All rights are reserved by this Author Meloo/Melissa A Howells Straight from Her Tilt-a-World editing (perhaps) later. All ideas/rants/poetry/prose are the expressed LEGAL PROPERTY OF THIS WRITER/AUTHOR. LEGAL PROPERTY/COPYRIGHT of this WORK AND THIS SITE TITLE BY THIS Writer/Author. Vote for this poem |
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