More than just stench
Today I wandered into the second floor men's bathroom. There was the usual layer of funk that permeates the room all day. Sitting on the small ledge between the two sinks were a few 8 1/2 x 11 sheets of paper. They were print outs that someone had made at one of the internet computers located nearby. The sheet sitting on top of the small stack of papers had some text written in hand with one of the library's golf pencils. It was a poem about being homeless. I cocked my head to the side and read it. It wasn't bad. The writer was mostly making the point that while average folks were going home to their families he (the writer) was looking for a place to "lay his head" for the evening. I was tempted to grab the papers and transcribe the text here. I went back a short while ago and the poem and accompanying papers were gone. They may be in the garbage in the bathroom but I ain't checking.