Running away from home at only eighteen years old.
Godspeed to a son’s search for what he was never told.
Leaving behind parents who work their love to their bones.
Mother cries as Father runs the local logistics depot.
Brother sits alone watching videos on his phone.

The eldest son makes his way in the city without family.
He window shops the faces that appear, some of joy and many to fear.
Poorly he chooses what he can afford, a common man of ill rapport.
He’s no stranger running from the laws that society holds.
It’s decided by this indigent pair to place their bets and let the cards unfold.

They approach anyone, men of business and woman of higher class.
Panhandlers, gambling with the law to fill their glass.
Making enough to get some cocaine, other homeless envy what they made.
One of the woman makes a claim, requesting a dime with a face of shame.
Another young man makes his move, can he get a front until tomorrow around noon.

The whole camp empties their emotional state on the pair, it feels unfair.
Alone in the back of the homeless encampment, they have nothing left to share.
Through the fog of cocaine, debates of getting back to work, whose hiring these days?
It’s hardly profitable, demonstrations for attention of their self imposed circumstances.

Cars pass on the interstate, holding a sign during the summer heat.
Someone rolls their window and hands the young man ten dollars.
It took close to two hours to get the bill.
Off the block he goes, he knows this will will never feed his soul.

Mother is now in heaven and family hardly comes to mind.
He’s become numb from drugs controlling him inside.
He spends his time, contemplating how it’s been eighteen years since he waved goodbye.
His friend waves him over, unfolding his sign to take his turn
To the home of love, he can not return.


© neconomic