On The Stairs... Poem by GRANT FRASER

I could hear
them on the thirteenth
floor talking,

through the door of the
fifteenth I went,

wondering...

in the darkness
I hit the button on
my flash light,
attached to my jacket,

to see the number,

is that a five or a six?

I had to go up to the window
to see it properly,
God my eye sight is failing,

it's a 5!

then I go to
several other doors,
then back
onto the stairs,

they've gone,
it would seem,

no voices...

must have heard me
coming,

when I open the thirteenth
door, there's two people
just sitting there,
pawing each other and
yawning,

they are homeless,
I can tell,
are using the building
as a refuge,

the girl has fresh purple
scratches all over her neck,
she stands up to let me past,

he just stands smiling a bit,
looking -

'you caen fit time it is? '
he sez, rolling his eyes over,
in a need for sleep,

I take out my P.D.A.

it's 9.25am, I add,

oh! cheers he sez,
wavering there like
some kind of somnambulist,

she smiles into my face
a bit more,
though I'm not sure now,
how much?

her clothes are all strewn
and old,

as I walk away...
I cannot review the truth,
or find any proof as why
they would want to be like this,

for a second I think myself
into thinking I could actually
help them,

I romance over this
as I reach the eleventh...

other stupid things I wouldn't
dream of enter me too,

by the the time I leave
the whole building,

they are light years
from this planet....