with child number three-
anxiously awaiting the bus at
haight and divisadero
pains in my belly
so sharp, so fierce
i must get home quick
not another miscarriage, i fear
a homeless girl sits beside me
petite and fair
bedraggled and unkempt
she starts talking-
regardless of my pain
innocent questions
innocent eyes
"i'm seven weeks pregnant"
she says
"what should i do?"
irony surrounds me
and humbles me
the boys on the street tell her
"get rid of your problem,
we can shoot heroin again"
may 2001