Her secret

Bobbie Gene Simmons


I sit watching the sun rise over the homelessness in my city. I can smell desperation and sorrow slip into the morning sunshine,  searching for another struggling soul.  I sit here with my warm coffee and soft clean clothing, and guilt chokes my peaceful solitude.

I am better than those people. Pitiful slackers, vermin and human stains litter my beautiful valley. Hypocrisy tears the scabs off my track marks that lie beneath my cashmere robe.

I am better, much better than them. Better liar.  Better thief and sinner, under the mask of dignity and professionalism, I play the game.

I am not disposable, as they are to me. I am a CEO, a beautiful junkie and a mother of three.

Toss a coin or bill their way,  headed home to my luxury spot. Quick stop on the way, need a fix, be quick, to the moon I go. Smooth sailing now, stealing trust and respect like a snake, so deliciously fake.