Jar of Bugs by Bogdan Dragos

he rides a rusty bike

in the cold

night

sliding like a

fish

from alley to alley

He’s going up

the hill again

All he’s got on him

besides

his clothes

and the bike

is a thermos filled with

coffee he got from

the vending machine

at the mall

coffee bought with

money earned

from a day’s work of

standing by the traffic lights

at the intersection,

waiting for them to turn

red

and offering to wash

someone’s windshield

Once on top of the

hill

he leaves the bike at

the base

of the water tower

and climbs the cold

iron ladder

There’s no one to stop him

at this time

He sits down

cross-legged

opens the thermos and pours

the coffee into

the cup part

and sips

Ahead of him

the city sleeps

Only a lone light shines

here and there

in some window

If…