at first the idea seems perfect.
brilliant, easy.
live on the lam,
out of my car,
soak up couches and floors when I can.
for months now
maybe go for years
but already
I am worn
from the never ending sense
that I don't belong here
or there
or anywhere.
folks seem fine at first,
happy to see
to feel
someone living
on the edge.
then it sneaks up
like a shoeless ninja,
the novelty of the edge
grows dull
and on this bludgeon
one becomes
an interruption at best.
then the edge means
meals alone, always out.
rereading books
just to kill time.
no real sleep.
the cost is enormous.
just the money spent on things
to give a reason
to be
somewhere.
anywhere.
the rest of the money goes into the car
my house on wheels,
my steady companion.
gas and repairs
to keep me running
from job to job,
that I work
to pay for the car
so I can get to the jobs
to pay for the car...
then more food and shit coffee.
the meals, endless lonely meals.
I have never eaten so much.I have at least that one thing left
to remind me
of the long lost comfort of home.