Seeking Cures

By Mercy

With
frazzled
unwashed hair
stuffed in knit hat,
cold wind slaps her face;
wound pounds on swollen leg
tied with rags. She’s three sheets to
the wind. Bagged, cheap brandy in hand,
she settles by warm grate–rides boozed rush.
Judgment fades as you meet her streetwise eyes
and acknowledge shared bond of brokenness,
recklessly chasing cure’s surge to soothe
inner anguish: thrills to seek, games
to play, stack of scratch tickets
each payday, case of beer
to erase week’s strain;
watch baseball as
worries wane,
empties
grow.

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