It was just like any other alley
filled with refuse of unwanted remainders
Mold painted walls dripping with 5000 fungi
Fire escapes misleading in their true use
and a bum drinking from a paper bag,
pretending there is someone there to listen   
 
Yet in the corner
covered in newspaper clippings of events that no longer matter
is a small boy
his knees clutched to his chest
trying to calm chattering teeth from the frost

His eyes are wide with wonder
looking at all the creepy crawlies
with a fascination strange for this setting 

A dark shadow is cast over him
as the bum approaches
      Boy this is no place for you
      It is the spittoon of life 
     Where the scent of a flower
     is replaced by the stench of urine,
     and breath is followed by hacking coughs
     A vagrants retirement home if you will
     when all that’s left is existence
     and nourishment comes behind the lid of a metal can 

     Be gone boy this is the end of life
     not the beginning
     You have so much ahead of you

The boy just looks at him with a familiarity
that scares the old soul

      I said Be Gone Boy! 
      Why are you  here?
      Did your parents die?
      Are you a runaway? 
      Leave here Now!

The boy looks up at him and says I can’t
You brought me here

I am who you were