Closed Shops

Yourtown in the twilight,
as the high street closes up,
the cold of dusk is coming
and you’re rushing for the bus.

You likely haven’t noticed
-as you place your careful boots-
the crumpled shadow people,
all the hopeless, needy looks.

Hidden in the doorways,
with their blankets and their bags,
the wind flapping the plastic
to irritate their dogs.

If you don’t acknowledge them
they’re really hardly there;
ignore the dirty hand held out
below the glassy stare.

And is it really your fault
they haven’t got a hope?
Probably all addicts
-is that the smell of dope?

If you just look at the pavement
you cannot catch their eye
and they’re comfortably invisible
‘til a Samaritan goes by.