she staggers against the wall
leaned into the shopping cart
carrying her odds and ends
collecting herself along the way

i stand and wait for the bus
fumbling with all this loose change
i have no use for
but loose cigarettes at the corner store

along the curb
dead leaves fall and rise
and fall again
with the passing of anonymous traffic
and i wonder if the falling leaf
hates the wind

she stops at the curb
across the street
straining her neck upwards
the birds carry a message
she will never decipher

coming back to herself
she hobbles across traffic
rewarded by filth
from the mouths
on their way to monthly parking
and impersonal furnishings
in mail order prison cells

she passes me
as i draw a token from my pocket
the bus stops
and i feel her eyes
on my neck
so i jump on the bus and sit
just in time to avoid
any feelings of guilt

she walks on
and i watch from my seat
as she falls over her cart
spilling out her life
onto the sidewalk
watching her things blow away
like so many dead leaves

i turned my head and
wondered if i should have
worn a warmer jacket

it's true what they say
i realized it
years later

the opposite of love
isn't hate
just simple cold
indifference