Sonya Sones
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Sonya Sones What My Mother Doesn't Know To Be Perfectly Honest Facebook Sonya Sones Twitter Sonya Sones Sonya Sones Pinterest Instagram Sonya Sones Tumblr page
Some Poems from Saving Red
Why Am I Out Here
In the middle of the freaking night                                   
wandering the streets of Santa Monica
looking for homeless people
when I could be lying in bed
watching videos of babies eating lemons
and soldiers reuniting with their dogs?
Because I need four more hours
of community service this semester.
That’s why.
And
I need them
by tomorrow morning.
I Know, I Know
I shouldn’t have waited
till the very last minute.
But isn’t that what
the very last minute is for?
I mean, if God hadn’t wanted us
to wait until the very last minute
he wouldn’t have
created it, right?
This morning, when I explained
that theory to my Freshman Seminar teacher,
she just laughed and said,
“Molly, if God hadn’t
wanted us to meet deadlines,
she wouldn’t have created them.
And you’ve known for months now
that every student has to complete
their community service before winter break.”
Which is why I am out here
freezing my butt off
at eleven thirty at night,
with a clipboard and a tally sheet
and a pen that only works
when you wring its neck,
roaming the streets
with my faithful dog Pixel
and 250 other volunteers—
all of us
helping the city
take its annual homeless count.
Which is sort of like
being on a scavenger hunt.  
Only much less fun.
Not at All Fun, Actually
I mean,
I knew there were people
living on the streets in Santa Monica.
You’d have to be blind not to notice them.
Though until tonight
I never really focused on them.
In fact, I tried really hard
not to focus on them.
Whenever I saw someone sleeping in an alley
or picking through a trash can
or trudging along in taped-up shoes,
I looked away and hurried past them.
Not because I’m one of those
spoiled self–centered teenage girls
whose idea of unendurable hardship
is having a broken fingernail.
But because…
Well, because seeing those people
stirs up all sorts of stuff in me.
Stuff I don’t like to think about …
Copyright 2004-. Sonya Sones. All rights reserved.