Mono-
chromed skies tie
summer’s bedraggled
kitestrings to the end of
a brief September.
Below on the corner,
yet another dark-
dressed unkempt
with cardboard
calling card:
HUNGRY.
Gooseflesh takes
more heat to burn.
Calories, I mean:
it’s getting cold.
Everyone you know
a paycheck away
from the next street over,
and the days
only getting shorter.
How will he eat
with so many
unthawed
colleagues?