At 3 a.m.

the bus stand is a museum
of fitful dreams and broken sleep.
The chirping of a lone
cricket rings through
the ears of travelers bounded,
bounded travelers.
The vagabonds and beggars -
the permanent collection
here - are lined up
against the wall. Their
sheets of gunny sack pressing
into their hardened backs, fighting to keep out the cold.
Moans reply to other moans
as people twist and turn on their makeshift beds.
When their dreams are interrupted
some scramble to protect their luggage
while others take cigarette breaks.
A scrawny dog battles against
fleas and when the lame
beggar wakes up he takes a
piss in his bowl.