The tables are lined-up….row after row….empty metal chairs waiting for the night-shift….the day-light panhandlers…the Broadway beggars…the Big Bus ticket hawkers….and the fairies, done with their daily doses of poppers and pixie dust….they’ll be amped-up ’til midnight….

And all the brothers wanna piece of the action….whatever can be scored…and newly arrived white boys who lost their way look-on…  This ain’t Kansas kids….

They walk amongst the world’s richest….rubbing shoulders with no-one… no straight looks…just mumbled doses of lost dignity from booze, K2, crack, meth, or…maybe a loss of hope from a broken bliss, a haunted home….So much more was dreamt….wished-for….

The metal chairs and dinner tables are lined-up for guests…..the door to the shelter  will be opened…All are welcomed..