Library,bitter cold wnter wind.
Candy stand,full with candy colorful wrappers-
Magazines with shiny covers.Walked right past him cold-shouldered and eyes ahead,brisk walk, heels pounding the cement as I was pushed the turning ramp up into the warm air of a greeting library he, the man who had no name,just a sign made out of cardboard;that said homeless and with Aids T-cell count 100.Plus that feeble cry that cried out for money and for food.I sometimes wonder if he lived or died among the frozen city streetshis cries becoming desperate pleas asstarvation sickness, horrible disease set in. I wanted so badly to hand him the little I had knowing that I would have food and a bed awaiting me at home; but like a coward I stood frozen then shouldered on.