Vet's Wife and Homeless

She’s standing on a corner
her cardboard sign in thin letters
looking like she could be ahead
of me in line at Target. Just a pink coat
and a flimsy sign, no vet missing
half a leg, all her teeth.

I wonder where her husband is
wonder if he’s on a couch somewhere watching
T.V. waiting for Rhonda
to come home with some pocket change.
They’ll head to the movies,
shake their heads at all the poor saps
who handed over coins.

These are the stories I create--
my yellow reassurance
so I can shake my head and drive forward
without a thought to the night
that drifts in like a black tide.

But it’s all just good fiction
mine and theirs.

That our shoulders could touch
in this grey world while we slide
past with slanted eyes, wondering
what will save us.