homeless stories
float the streets
looking for a tongue
to tell them. 

you’re passed out on the couch,
though, television on,
with your mouth closed
for once.

when you don’t wake up
they go on to the next house,
the next street, the next town.
someone will open the door

eventually, and make them
into shows you can watch
at night before you fall asleep.
aren’t you chastened now

that you weren’t awake?
you could have avoided
wasting time later on
passing out on the couch

with a vague sense of envy
for those who give you
such marvelous
second hand tales.