Homeless Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Proclivity of life stands edgewise as many homeless
people travel our city streets alone.
For many of them it was not a conscious choice of
affairs, for a few it is the way they prefer living.
Begging on the street, asking every passer-by for
some amount of money to get by.
Spending monies that they do receive for beer or
wine, thinking habitually that this is the only way
in which they can live.
How they arrive at this particular juncture in their
lives cannot be known unless intensely talking with
these people.
Yet, most will walk away, preferring to get a drink
so they don't have to think about their predicaments
or having to deal with them.