Posts Tagged ‘displacement’

Nasty Neighbor

October 5, 2017


There was a knock on the door, a heavy knock. The woman opened the door. She saw a bleached blonde standing before her. Oh, yes, the neighbor from the second floor, she thought. The blonde’s face was angry; her wrinkles were prominent. Do you know that your cat meows during the night? Is he feral? Feral? Of course, he isn’t feral. He’s a stray I am fostering. You’re not fostering him. He hasn’t even seen a vet. Yes, he has seen a vet, the woman behind the door said. Then why is he meowing. That’s what cats do. You bitch! I am going to call the ASPCA. I’m going to have you kicked out. Don’t call the ASPCA. On second thought call them. I’m helping the cat. The woman on the inside of the door shrugged her shoulders. Enough! I am tired of these people. If it’s not one, it’s another. Unsafe—now I feel more unsafe about housing than ever. It’s like I can never be home. I can never have my little sure thing space somewhere, anywhere.






















September 30, 2017

You go. You come. You fight. You argue and I don’t know why. You say you care. You say you don’t want to be emotionally close. Only the people you lost mean anything to you. Those people are gone but you don’t care. You love them. I don’t fit in anywhere. I care but you pull away. Will this be it, the end for what I feel? My heart hurts; it truly misses you. It is baffled and confused. Is caring for you a crime according to you?

Our Spot

September 27, 2017

Our Spot

Get out! This is our spot! It’s not yours, it belongs to us. We were here before you. One of the 2 men shouted at the man sitting cross legged on the sidewalk in front of the pharmacy. They wore shabby T-shirts and trousers on the dirty side. The man looked at them. You don’t own the sidewalk; nobody does. I am here for a few days, a few days only; then I am gone. It’ll be all yours. He took out a small pencil from his pocket. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police, the woman next to the man said. She took out her cell phone and started to dial 911. The older of the 2 men made a gesture of disbelief and called someone with his phone. He said he has been here but I never saw him before. As soon as the 2 men left, the woman shook her head. What a horrible world this is! For a spot, a lousy spot, you could get hurt. That’s how it is, the man replied.



July 1, 2017


I sit. I sit long and hard. Time goes by almost without my knowledge. I get caught up in what I am doing and I forget. I forget who and what I am. Hours go by. I am sitting. I still do what I love best. Being invisible this time is fine. It is totally fine.




Could I?

March 31, 2017

Could I?

He stood near her. The man was thin. His face was unshaven. He wore no T-shirt or sweater, just some tan-colored pants. Could I speak to you for a minute? The woman looked down at the floor. She shook her head. No.  The man repeated the question. His voice was gentle. Please. Just for a minute. She turned to look behind her. There was an empty can of beer on the floor. No. I don’t have time. Someone got hold of the man’s arm. He seated himself on the bed.


Place, My Place

February 10, 2017


A Place, a place with a capital P. No one knows the importance of Place better than the homeless. Finding a place to live, a roof over one’s head is important, often more than important. It can be a matter of life and death. My heart is in agony, sheer agony. I cannot afford the street, the sidewalk, and I cannot afford a roof. The first is cold and stiff and the other has to have lots and lots of dollars attached to it. I look for answers. I have been looking for answers for years. I have found nothing.




Hard Tears

November 23, 2016

The face leans against the glass window of a closed store. It is dark. Tears try their best to come out. The mouth opens in an attempt at a scream. No! Don’t look! I don’t want you to look. What have I become? I am a thing, less than a thing. I have just sat for hours on the sidewalk. People walked by. Almost none saw me. The air was like ice. The cheeks hurt.  The legs were rigid. The legs were the legs of a robot.

Life without Dinner

November 18, 2016

Life without Dinner

Not today—definitely not today. Not last week, either. Not even a month ago. How many days, how many nights, without it? It once was called a square meal. A square meal seems like a dream, like it happened so long ago that it never happened at all. It’s bread and cheese. Bread and cheese with maybe a small yogurt. That is what passes for dinner these days.





November 5, 2016


One side of the head had white hair; the other side had brown hair. The woman was bending over a light brown paper shopping bag. “It’s here. I found it.” She looked up at the other woman. “Don’t take things that don’t belong to you.”  The voice sounded harsh, almost like a cat hissing. “I didn’t. “ The other woman’s eyes stared at her. “I found it and I was going to turn it in before I left the building.” I am done with all this. At least, I wish I was done with all this. She didn’t say this out loud. My life. I don’t like how this makes me feel. The first woman saw the older woman’s green bag. In a minute, all the contents were all over the floor, the dog food, the water, everything. “Help! Help!” The older woman yelled these words. Nobody in the room moved. “Do you think that if I had really taken your brown bag I would have stayed here?” She picked up her stuff, put it in the green bag and walked out the door. “Stupid.” Somebody yelled to her back.


October 27, 2016

It is green, very green. It is huge, very huge. I had e new er been here before. I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know what to do. Where should I go, which way? Should Io go left or right, north or south, east or west? I don’t know. I am scared. Soon it will be night and everything will be dark. Will I rest against the trunk of a tree? Will I be able to find a tree, any tree? I need directions and there aren’t any. Living by my wits and my wits only is hard.