by Kevin Hogg
His hopeless eyes plead with mine
From the dirt beside the sidewalk
Worldly possessions fill a garbage bag
Home: a cardboard mess, a heat grate
Her tiny eyes gaze into passing cars
Violence defines her neighborhood
Bored on the doorstep of low-rent housing
But to explore today is to jeopardize tomorrow
His tired eyes seek freedom from this reality
An unwashed, unshaven face,
A paper cup and sign:
Why lie? I need money for beer.
Kevin Hogg is a husband, father, high school teacher, and Chicago Cubs fan. He holds a Master of Arts degree in English Literature and has published poetry with inner art journal, Foliate Oak, and Mouse Tales Press. This poem features memories of people in Washington DC, Baltimore, and San Diego, who may not remember him, but he can never forget.