Sorry I Don't Know You

She was homeless. A hobo, nothing, a panhandler - a rag.

That afternoon it had been sunny; cold but sunny and she had put together one euro and eurocents, plus the two a cunt who told her to get a job had donated - money money had earned.

On her way home to where no one waited light in an alleyway shone on a gallery.

A gathering.

Bright white walls, sparsely ornate:

Is that you?