i live in a transitional shelter, where the women i live with only obligation is to find housing & lie around sleeping beautiful summer days away. where fights erupt over burners, cigarettes& clothes usually stolen from the wash. i do a chore everyday, it’s a small penance for having a roof over my head. the house is wave, sometimes it’s calm-with the full moon coming the wind comes in & attitudes begin to flow. here’s a small summary of the women i get the experience of seeing everyday.

“diva” is what it said on her shirt, she paraded around the house for a few hours so everyone would get a good look @ our low class felon that did a few days in the slammer last month. i had a tough time telling her that she wasn’t even close to “diva.” maybe a HMB, but not a “diva.” she cleans her cadillac out every few weeks & draws attention to her ever expanding rear end by wearing clothes not suited for women her size & flirting with the often drunk/high street homeless men that surf through our neighborhood. when the fire alarm recently rang she went over & low & behold they all came over & bummed from the women waiting outside. what a champ.

or maybe i should dedicate a few lines to a woman that has become a fashion accessory in her bathrobe, it’s her new coat & she parades around the house in it All Day. her hair pulled back with fashionable bandannas or hairnets. she claims she is from the east coast—her days revolve around smoking, sleeping & pacing in her bathrobe. her new activity is tagging me-meaning that she follows me around the house to the point that i have had to go to the staff.

then there is my neighbor who i share the bathroom with, who still lives very much like a man, not a woman. her room is filthy& she claims that sex isn’t between the legs-it’s in the mind. ah-wait not quite. she uses foul smelling body spray & cheap pink bottles of shampoo, along with high priced shaving cream she uses for her face & not for her legs. she wants to be woman, her attitude& the state of her room that staff has taken notice of more than once tells another story.

i take my bus pass & i Escape. i find corners in coffee shops& places i can blend in & for a few hours feel like my life is a bit more than the tiny room i have with a door. more than the chore i have to do everyday. that i Again will be something in this world. what Never escapes how close i am to being back in the street shelter. i don’t think it’s a feeling that will ever go away until i am in a stable, calm environment i am working towards everyday. i Believe that i can get myself to a better place, it is what i have to believe.


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