Someone just smoked a cigarette in the indoor bathroom at the Salvation Army Harbor House Homeless Shelter on North Anne Street
Written by Edward A. Storm
Someone just smoked a cigarette in the indoor bathroom at the Salvation Army Harbor House Homeless
Shelter on North Anne Street,
And the new night shift manager Brittany,
She really seems to be upset.
She’s threatening about
Raging about kicking that old man out
Gray with windburn and without shoes
Back on the street this November evening,
But the little baby Thomas laughs and mumbles on
As he bounces on the knee of the old whore Tiffany,
And the old drunk George laughs and mumbles on,
As he bounces on the corner of a single for mattress,
Clean sheets faded brownish and blood sprinkled.
A young man now sits up on a toilet stall
He’s kicking heroin,
He eyes leak a stream of tires tears
He’s been shitting blood and now he’s vomiting nothing, heavily, loudly. Nothing!
My theory is that he doesn’t notice the faint and sweet tobacco odor nor the
Washed out sound of Brittney’s voice
As she tries to enforce order on those
Who crave order so badly,
We’re not the rowdy bunch of addicts, alcoholics and maniacs we once were.
We feel blessed to have a room,
A warm room to shit our blood in
And regurgitate our bile in,
To eat our stale donuts
To drink the watery coffee upstairs
Us men at the Army,
We are the blessed
And we know it tonight,
Yes we do.
Someone just smoked a cigarette in the indoor bathroom at the Salvation Army Harbor House Homeless
Shelter on North Anne Street,
Lord,
This is a funny and sweet problem for us,
We are still human and alive!
