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About Street roots. (Portland, OR) 1998-current | View Entire Issue (Jan. 6, 2012)
5 street roots Jan. 6, 2012 My first cold blustery night By Leo Rhodes The rain is coming down hard The wind is blowing Walking in this kind of weather The rain feels like pellets hitting my face The combination of the rain and the cold wind Numbs my exposed skin My survival instincts kick in I start thinking of different places I can sleep Out of the rain There’s the doorway, it’s a great cubbyhole I’ll be tucked away out of the wind and rain No, wait, a rent-a-cop found me there He threatened me with calling the cops And having them arrest me I thought of other doorways I could go to But I would need a tarp I don’t have a tarp Hell, I don’t even have a blanket Then I remember I have a place I’m inside now At my place, I put the key inside the door Hearing the clicking sound as I unlock the door As I open up the door The familiar smell of my place Rushes out to greet me I go inside and put my backpack On the floor Then hang up my coat I rush to the window that reaches all the way to the floor I open up the blinds I stand there watching the raindrops hit the window Then trickle down I look beyond that to the trees Swaying in the wind And beyond that, the rain hitting The road and sidewalk I also notice the rain accumulating in puddles On sidewalks and the road Next I go to my bedroom I stand in the doorway and turn on the light Staring at my soft warm bed With a big comforter Thinking, thinking, thinking I rush to the closet where I hang my coat On the top shelf I grab my blanket Then I grab my backpack I place my backpack next to the long window That reaches to the floor I lay down, facing the window Using the backpack for a pillow I throw the blanket over me Like I had done many times before I curled up in my blanket Watching the rain hit the window Trickling down And the trees, swaying in the breeze Thinking, thinking, thinking.
