reflection

I catch sight of her in the glass of store window. Neat black skirt, tall boots, pea coat, gloves in the left hand; umbrella tucked under the right. Well put together, she could be someone important on her way to do do something meaningful. She could be someone successful on her way home after a good day at work. I watch her like I'm curled up and cold in the sheltering niche between 2 buildings. I eye her with a jealousy, feeling my filthy and mismatched clothes and the matted hair on my head. I get so envious because it makes me feel surprisingly dirty when she makes an appearance.

I know who she is; she's an actor. I know because I know under that veneer anyone can buy at Ann Taylor she is me, a dirty, homeless, drunk. And as a drunk I may never get used to colliding with a reflection that looks like someone else. She looks like someone I don't deserve to be living a life I don't deserve to live.

I march past the stores, reminding myself that these boots cannot be worn again without serious attention from a cobbler. Rounding the corner and taking hold of the damp railing that leads down into the subway, a shadow catches my eye. It's just a flit of rags in the wind and a whiff of unwashed personal funk. There she is - who I am. A few bad decisions away, there I sit.

"God bless you" I say over my shoulder and I head down into the train station to go home.