In the middle of the street with cardboard armor,

On the side of the road in a newspaper jacket

And sleeping on a concrete bed

Or chained to a wall

To a bed or to a chair or

To a kaliedoscope of crystals across the ground

Catching the light and sparkling like the sun on the top of the ocean

Wet

What you see just before you drown

Even when seen through bars

Through reinforced glass

Or the darkness of night

Or the fog of the morning

Or over the barrel of your gun

Just across enemy lines

Even then

A heart will still beat

With the same rhythm as your own.