Most days when I saw her, she was sitting on a milk crate, empty paper coffee cup in hand, wordlessly seeking donations, and whatever change I had I gave her. But after losing my job, after the savings ran out, after my wife ran out, children too, (“bye, bye daddy”) I wound up living on the street where she lived.
I was invited into her home; it was spacious by cardboard standards.
“Take what you want. “
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Left her home empty.
Took all she had and left everything I took.
For all she had was imaginary.