She hovers beside me but doesn't speak
as I get my coffee from the machine
Doesn't look coherent
A bit disoriented
Perhaps hungry?
She follows to stand outside the station door
I sit alone in the cold, reminds me of Scotland
Is she hungry?
I remember being hungry a few times
Too proud to take food
from a discarded plate
Too dignified in my pretty clothes
and good leather boots
and fine gloves
to ask for a dollar.
How many hover around us
too proud, afraid
to ask?
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