where does she go when she wants to go home?

when she needs the safety of four walls and a door

but her life is made of boxes and food

found tossed away

because it might leave a scent

in the leather seats

if we take it in the suv -

when she needs to hide from averted eyes

and cry the tears

of a life gone miserably wrong -

when she needs to take off the layers

of cast aside clothing

and gloves that don't match

and rest her feet

from the too small shoes with newspaper

blocking the pavement

from her soul -

when she needs to be

just mary

not the crazy woman who fights with air

and strokes the hair of an invisible child

in the night

as she hugs the last drops of warmth

leaking from the restaurant's back door

where she prays for one more day to do it again

maybe tomorrow will be different

the day eyes look in her direction

and don't look away

someone's hand touches hers

and she knows she is

still real

still connected

to humanity

and it will be enough.

she can push the cart one more day

search for her life

anybody's life

in the shadows

in the street

in the heart of the pigeons

who are her only friends.