mobile home
the storm lay to the south
breath of dust from ground to sky
rose like smoke beyond the concrete
all the proper folk headed home
classy cars tucked neatly in garage
for future worship
he never noticed us drive by
while digging for his treasure
his wheel chairs come in pairs
maneuvered by his feet
his legs are good
perhaps his luck is not
i've seen him zip across the parking lot
his mobile home before him
backward motion
dodges traffic on the city street
one wheel chair at his back
the other front and center
today this dumpster was his mall
his all
in concentrated rummage and perhaps
a bit of cheap mouthwash
the upper crusty shake a head
and bed themselves in comfort
can't touch the likes of those
who pose as real
or live on garbage
and when the white rain came
in sheets between the wind
i found myself in shelter
and hoped he did the same.