My people (do what it takes)

The daily wake and bakers
The morning, noon, and night pill takers
The bent behind their desk hip flask fire drinkers
The after class gas huffers
Acrid bloody monsters
Burnt out husks following the wind
All the people on the street alone
purposefully talking, who don’t even own a telephone
The uninvited
The whispered about
The blessed, catching the AM Express
The brilliant frantic scrawling
The narrative drifters
The urban dog walkers lost in song
The shut in
The cast out
The long gone
The freaks so far out there isn’t even a word for them yet
The chronically fucked
The had just about enough
The despised
getting together
throwing a party in the street
not even caring about the cops barreling down with orders to break it up

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