By dawn the purple cold of Canada
would settle into Coney Island
where Freeborn slept under the Boardwalk
bundled up with layer upon layer of clothing
his home a refrigerator carton
or a number of mattress boxes taped together.
He explained, “The cartons block the wind
so if you got enough clothes on and ain’t dead
your own body heats up the little space alright.
Hell, I’m lucky.
I’m the one got a right to be called Warrior.”
Now everyone huddled indoors:
in Kansas Fried Chicken, Kennedy Fried Chicken,
Meng’s, or Mike’s restaurant under the station
or in Faber’s Fascination.
It was good to be indoors
when the temperature dipped past zero
and the wind blasted off the awesome Atlantic.
In the dark
just the cold wind
having supremacy over all.
Then I got coffee with a free Oreo cookie
from Phillip’s International Toffee House
and watched white mist float free
and then from the cookie
which I dipped in
when a stray dog appeared
glanced up, sad brown eyes
seemed sad
so dropped the cookie
which he gladly took
seemed glad, then went on
this lone dog in the dead of winter
in Coney Island
with not much chance for life
unless he found
a few of his own kind
to travel with.
Charles Chaim Wax
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/another-life-1/
