for Traci & Joe

They hopped the freight from Tucson, fourteen hours
on a grainer, in the rain. Got busted
just outside of Houston—bulls come pointin’
guns at us, crazy, but they took
the pup, and locked us up. We couldn’t get
her back until we paid the thirteen bucks.
Good thing is, they gave her all her shots.

They’re pierced, tattooed and scarred, clothing’s smoky,
soiled and worn, with oil and soot. They say
they’re headed south—we’ll get the Monday freight
to Tampa, where we got some friends to house us.
I say, safe travels, wish them luck; they ask
for nothing, as the pup sleeps at their feet.

Baltimore, Inner Harbor