I see them every morning
waiting for breakfast
in a line along a building
wrapping around the city block
homeless men and women
smoking cigarettes
nipping at bottles
wiping rain from brow
they squat or stand
then the line moves
into the soup kitchen
the meal is free
it is warm inside
as they sit at tables
swiping S.O.S. with
a flaky biscuit
and blow before
sip on their coffee
during the meal
there is laughter
a small prayer is answered
they stay as long as they can
until they walk the streets
and sleep somewhere out of the rain
