the breadline
is a presence in the universe
that exists
at all times
it continues
whether you are there or not
like a current
like a grave
like a child's growth spurt
we simply
slip in and out of it
when it is our turn
an entity unto itself
does it have a spirit?
or spirits who guard it?
are the spirits happy when
we come
to take our places?
is our waiting
worrying
fidgeting
sighing
beautiful to them?
do we feed them?
do they comfort us?
if I knew where to find
the altar of the breadline
I would leave this poem there
with a flower from the sidewalk
