He crawls out from under the blue tarp
strung between two trees and a park bench
with the first light of morning breaking
over Shinjuku Chuo park, slowly erasing
the shadows cast by the Metropolitan Government Building.
He neatens the surrounding concrete,
ready for the soon to be arriving crowd
that appear each morning for Tai Chi.
As the elderly men and women pass,
he bows slightly to each and each
gently returns the bow with a smile.
He goes off to visit friends by the
Kumano Shrine, knowing that when he returns
he will likely find the empty covered tin
that sits on the stone that marks his
blue plastic home replaced with another
with sticky rice and bits of dried fish
or pickled vegetables, for in this
always teeming city, there is
even a great civility to homelessness.

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