Homeless Poem by John Shea

A cardboard box is my home
In the city where I was born
Wine beer and rats are my best friends

My meals come from trash
Sometimes it's hash
Or a soft pretzel hard as an oak

I beg borrow steal
to get a good meal
Like hot dogs and burgers and such

I smell like hell
And would bathe in a well
But there are none

Spring showers are nice
They rinse off the lice
That reside on my half balded head

So remember me when
You strive to be thin

Because death is not choosey
About your lonely fat life
My life was chosen
By living alone in my strife.