Homelessness

I saw her.
About two years ago.
On my drive to work.
A mid-forty(ish) woman.
Average – not too thin not too heavy – build.
Shiny, blond, neatly combed hair.
On the corner of Whittier and Greenleaf.
Sitting on a bench.
Watching the overflow of traffic.
Sadness abounding from her face.

I saw her.
Today.
For the ump-teen time.
Skinny.
Dull, dishwater-blond hair.
Lines etched into her face.
On her corner.
Wandering, circling around her pile of stuff.
Lots of stuff.
Talking.
To herself.
Waving at passing cars.
A detached from reality look on her face.

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