tiny handfuls

a beautiful couple
unshowered, in dirty clothes
gently usurp this street corner
he plays guitar, she sings
soul, blues, folk
fresh, like fruit ripe off the vine
donations accepted

"It's hard to starve in America,"
I overhear her saying,
"People stop by with food,
good food, restaurant food"

I imagine it's not a romantic life at all
that you have to make your own romance
living with nothing
living off the land
which is this pavement
winding through small towns and big cities
tramping, catching buses
sleeping outside
or bumming a couch here and there
grateful for the tiny handfuls
of mercy