Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I hate
    the homeless,
    I hate their little tragedies,
    their ramshackle lives
    their small wanderings
    mostly off-compass
    while turning in tight
    little jerking circles
    like the walking dead
    seeking out places
    to merely die.
    they are everywhere.
    as spray paint
    or broken glass
    beneath bare feet.
    they're like cancer
    or insects
    getting inside my secrets,
    behind my lies.
    they appear at the center
    of my every moment
    by justifying the begging,
    the pleading,
    making me think
    I should feel bad about them
    or bad about myself
    for not feeling BAD ENOUGH
    about them
    their luckless,
    toothless courage
    that I've given my spare change
    and cigarettes to.
    now I no longer
    give a damn about them.
    they're a burden to everyone,
    especially to me
    as I work by the hour
    while falling behind by the minute,
    who's likely just one small mistake away
    from becoming one of them
    just this morning
    a younger guy asked me
    for a quarter.
    I told him the truth,
    that I have nothing
    I'm late with the rent,
    that I'm overdrawn at the bank
    and I just wrote another bad check
    to cover some cat food
    and get a little change for things
    like gas,
    just to get through another day,
    and that I'm just a shit stain away
    from being homeless too,
    at which point
    he dug out a couple of quarters
    from his dirty clothes
    and handed them to me,
    with an insisting tone,
    "here man...
    you need it more than me.
    God bless you."
    and then he simply walked away.
    I said,
    I hate the homeless
    and their profound wisdom,
    their powerful insight
    perfect clarity of perception,
    their often indisputable sincerety,
    their disarming kindness,
    their undoubtably loving soulfulness
    worst of all
    endless generosity.
    ©2015 Miles Ciletti
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.