Five Bottles Along Side The Road

 

      As I passed the debris of Occupy Seattle, I saw five bottles lined up on a ledge and considered the problems of being homeless.

      Besides the cold and hunger,

      Besides being wet or frozen,

      Is what to do with that bottle of pee.

      How do you keep clean when your hands get splashed and the bottle isn't clean. How do you keep from smelling of urine all the time?

      Cologne and perfume is a prized commodity among the homeless still trying, it will mask some of the smell.

      And how much can you carry, all the time? It's cheaper to buy big bottles of shampoo and soap, sure, but how can you carry those around with you?

      Where can you get rest?

      Hit the road, Jack, is a constant song heard by the homeless.

      Get a job is another.

      How?

      How do you get computer time to do it?

      How do you get clean clothes to wear or the money to get there?

      It can be cheaper to buy new clothes at a thrift store than wash what you have.

      How do you get to the interview?

      How do they make contact with you?

      For most homeless, if they are lucky enough to have some income, their cell phone is the only home they have, and they are often scorned for having that.

      But the homeless have friends

                  and family,

                  and pride.

      When their social credit has been used up or their pride forbids asking for more they still need to keep in touch,

            with family, friends, agencies that can help,

            their lawyers.

      To be homeless in most communities makes you a criminal. To sit in the street, to beg, to sleep on someone's property can all land you in jail.

      We, the comfortable, protect ourselves by saying its their fault. If only, we say, they weren't...they hadn't...

      And why are we helping them? If they weren't...if they hadn't...they wouldn't need our help.

      And I, the good person, the one who has followed society's rules should get the reward, should get it all.

      If only...

            If only they hadn't gotten sick

                  and lost their jobs and their benefits

            If only they hadn't been abused as child

                  they wouldn't have landed in juvey and been a criminal

            If only they were strong enough to never reach for relief from life's problems

                  never drink

                        or drug

                              or have sex with strangers

      If only they were perfect, like me.

      And didn't waste their resources on dinners and drinks and casinos, like me.

      If only the never quarreled with their family over things past or get fired, like me.

      They wouldn't have any problems, just like me

      So why should I be told to care?

---By Carla Blaschka, 12/10/11
     Written at Richard Hugo House alongside PurpleMark Wirth and Zoe Omega.

 
 

Write By The Park Prompts:                                                                         

1. Things seen on the street
2. Songs being played