My Choice

On a steamy summer evening
In fast fading light,
I drop into a concrete alcove
between a window
and an air conditioning unit.
The deep hollow
swallows my small body.
Boys run by
searching for me,
I hear my own breath.

I should kick the can.
Free the prisoners
stuck in the jail, in the middle
of the black asphalt street.
The tin can that used to hold
28 oz. of plum tomatoes
would pop up into the sky.
Kids would holler,
sneakers pound
like the ticking of a stopwatch.

I will stay
Harbored
in my nowhere hole.
I tuck my legs
under my chin,
rest my head
on the knuckles
of my knees.
I stay a secret.