Plastic Friend
by Odin Roark

I peer up with crooked neck,
shyly connecting with a friend,
awaiting today's journey in his frayed lapel.

Like my homeless companion,
I just want to continue my sense of worth.

How perfect this vagabond marriage;
a plastic flower adorning ignored struggle.
an earnest imitation together,
wanting so to stay real for each other.

We walk our walk,
and sometimes, talk our talk,
hoping you’ll notice our smiles…

It’s all we have left.