At the edge of each town
there is a squat building,
dedicated for storage of STUFF
locked inside solid walls
for people who have no space
in their homes for all they own.
The train then passes by woods.
Through the trees you can glimpse
tents, rickety lean-to shelters,
scattered plastic bags stuffed
with sundry possessions –
housing for people with no homes.
The train whistle shrieks.
The sky is grey and says nothing.