Empty crystal spheres peering into a world
that tramples above the ocean she drowns in.
Legs of giants swinging purposefully around her
in a whirl of city movement she does not belong to.
Anchored to the cracks in the pavement
and her shopping cart of treasure once buried.
Instead of swimming to the surface
her words sink below the subway lines.
A fish out of water but not yet on land
the streets are a house without being a home.
As if every Starbucks cup is filled with hemlock
because hers is used for collecting change.
As the humans walk by and pretend not to see
because God forbid their consciences should soil.
While she knows they can’t give her all she needs
she needs them all to give.
Though she’s swimming upstream
against a tide of slacks and heels.
She’ll always have the marked fins that make her a fish
albeit in an ocean too salty.
And only because the guilt was too much
and those empty crystal spheres seemed more to me
like an oracle’s crystal balls
did I give her my bottle of water.
When she looked up and said “thank you”
I finally realized that her crystal spheres were the clearest I have ever seen.
Glistening to the other end of the ocean.
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