Pink shirts?

Tracy Jarvis writes “Thought I’d blog this. Sometimes I feel so lucky to be studying this artform. Especially when I see and look around every day.”

I often wonder about the world
I wonder about the people
I see the homeless every day
I think about them

I remember a man
Convulsing, skin so blue
Almost a coma
An addict
I presumed drugs and alcohol
Maybe a mixture
I didn’t care
The stench

A Life.

I looked through him
Our unconscious met
I saw him, just a boy
Only a boy
Nothing else
The ambulance came

I drove down the road
The sky so blue
The smell of summer and sweetness
The sound of trees
Delightful

Then I saw him
That boy
That boy with a beard
His skin so soft, unshaven
His bristles alive and well

I looked at him
I smiled
My eyes smiled tears of joy
And my heart sank
I cried

I still wonder about him.

Last week I rode past a needle
I stared, I still do
How many lives has it taken?
How many boys?
How many girls?

Aren’t we just the same?
Separated by our ability of choice