Near 17th Street and Lockwood Ridge,
I always look for her in the hard plastic dome

meant for bus riders but home for her
in black high-top sneakers.

She lives there with shopping carts, filled
with clothes, blankets, pillows, over-flowing jumble.

She takes out a thick blue comb and rakes
through long bushy hair, palomino-colored.

A bulky frame fueled to survive the elements–
she must take refuge in the nearby shopping center

for bathroom breaks.  What does
she do if someone takes her place?  I’ve never

seen a confrontation but I wouldn’t bet against her fierceness.
She hides behind an umbrella on sunny days,

drapes herself over the grocery cart at rest.
I see her dozing or staring into the distance.

How many drivers pass by everyday
and how many eyes seek her out as I do?