Street Bedroom

Jessica Sholtis & Steve Goldberg

A downtown morning

going to a downblock deli,

I watch

the traffic, the sky, the buildings.

and

tripping my eyeballs,

a man

dreaming deeply

on a bed

of sidewalk.

staring I pass

a beard

full, stained, and matted

like a neglected puppy

full-grown.

he slumbers

only a doorway

from my

delicious delicatessen destination.

I glance over my shoulder

at each new angle

with each new step.

I fondle my camera.

I see

his pants are

down.

Rising heat

comes to my face.

I turn away

shamed

in my invasion of a strangers space

in witnessing a dirty sleeping man’s

privacy.

deli delectibles in hand

face still flushed with awareness

I watch the traffic

feel the guilty camera weight.

fondling, I pause.

a downtown morning

a man

bare assed and snoring

forever oblivious

of a stolen digital memory.

whose sleeping image

affected a woman

enough

for her to want

to keep him

forever.