The homeless people gather —
half a dozen, maybe ten —
at the rotunda in the park.
They stay there most of the day.
Their voices are loud, some raucous.
Their movements are loose or jerky,
either way unrestrained ... free?
Freer, perhaps, than me?
They have community,
they have laughter.
They are a closed circle
I would not approach.
I have no wish
to change places.
My quieter, safer life
beckons me home. (I have cats.)
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