Outside the station

There are
Three black babies
Running up and down
The broken escalators.
They are more
Like stairs now.
The parents
I cannot see.
They must be
Breaking themselves
For a dollar or two
To feed the family.
One, a girl,
Smiles a child's smile
At me.
I smile back.
And realize
It is the first time
Today
I've smiled.

The cold
Has arrived.

My fingers clench
Around a lit cigarette.
The cold stings them
Into a sense of
Belonging
Amidst this winter night.
I am jealous.
All I want tonight
Is to belong.

I inhale
And exhale
My teeth chattering
More lively than
A group of teenage girls
Walking down the
Escalator-stairs
Into the monolith
Of train-riding misery.

A homeless man
Has made his perch
For the night
A few yards away
From me.
His bags
Cover him
As he shivers his way
To sleep.

I realize
His lonely bags
Are his life.
And they double
As blankets
In the cold.
Winter is really
An asshole.

I feel sad
That I do not
Have it in me
To help him.
Surely
I have a
Beer-stained couch
For him to sleep on.
I am too
Concerned
With my own
Well-being
To consider
His
And I hope
That soon
The cold
Will go away
And Winter's
Tempestuous winds
Will wither
And die.
Like I see
Myself
Doing
In the
Brazen frigidness
Of December's
Wicked wrath.